Miss Bishop, Mitchell Grossberg, Dr. Ralph Goldin, and Socrates

 

I hated Miss Bishop. She was one of the worst teachers I ever had. I had her twice – in the fifth and seventh grades and I was convinced that she was out to get me. I had always received excellent grades and I was used to having a report card that I was proud to show to my parents. And there was no reason why it shouldn't be a good card. I was one of the smartest, if not THE smartest kid in the school. But she ruined it. She gave me a “U” in something or other. (I can't remember what it was. Its presence under whatever guise was an abomination for me.) Worse. The offending grade was in red ink. It was a positive embarrassment.

I subsequently realized that the “U” must have been the rating I got for effort. Sure I did well. It was easy. But she demanded more of me. She knew I was coasting. And only since have I come to recognize that she was pushing me to accomplish all that was within my reach, and to reach even further. It was up to me. I hated her, but she was one of the best teachers I ever had.

Mitchell Grossberg wasn't one of my teachers. He was a friend – a better friend than I appreciated. Even so, I can only remember one incident in our relationship, but in view of the fact that it probably happened sixty-five years ago or so, the impression it made on me is evident.

We were playing in an overgrown vacant lot. I was about ten or eleven and he was a year older than I. I can't recall how the issue came up but I called someone (probably Miss Bishop) a ____ [expletive deleted]. Mitchell responded by asking me if I knew what the word meant. It must have been obvious to him that I didn't because I used a verb as a noun, and I used an expletive in an age when cursing was far less common than is the case now. When I admitted my ignorance (it was also an age when children knew less about the “birds and the bees” than is true now) he simply told me not to use words I didn't understand. The idea of comprehending what I was discussing has stuck with me. I suspect that he didn't think twice about what happened, but it provided an important lesson for me.

There was a hiatus before the next teaching that affected my approach to the world. It happened during my residency in radiology. I was already a doctor and learning to be a specialist, and I thought I knew everything. In the middle of the night a resident from one of the wards asked me to perform some kind of emergency GI procedure (I forgot long ago what it was) and I argued against it because I didn't think it was indicated at that hour. Rather than fight it for too long or awaken one of the attending physicians to back me up, however, I did what was requested and put off the discussion with my superior until the morning.

The superior was Dr. Goldin, who was both the staff member most experienced in gastrointestinal radiology and a thoughtful and experienced physician. From him I sought a ruling – or really a rule – concerning the indications for the procedure. I wanted to have some criteria I could quote that would justify my refusal should the situation arise again. But he refused me. He didn't say whether I was right or wrong in the particular case, only that there was no rule. Each case had to be evaluated individually. In current jargon, one size doesn't fit all.

But the individual who affected my learning most, and who most influenced my own teaching methods, was one I never met. Indeed he lived, if at all, more than two millennia ago. It was Socrates, as portrayed by Plato. He taught me to think. His lesson encompassed all the others I've described. They were all important, but the example of Socrates, that I have to question everything, and work out all problems for myself, has governed my approach to education – both my own and that of my students – for most of my life. I have learned to ask questions rather than answer them.

In retrospect, none of the three teachers I mentioned prior to Socrates didn't always answer my questions. But all made me think about them. I hope that my students have learned this lesson as well.

Next episode: “They Speak For Themselves” – I said it and I meant it. At least at the time.