The Kurtz Bounce

When I was in college, I took two courses taught by Prof. Kurtz. I don't remember what classes, specifically, except that they were math classes. In fact, the thing I remember most from the classes taught by Prof. Kurtz is what I will call "the Kurtz bounce".

When he taught, he would move from left to right, along the board, as it got filled up with material - this is normal for anyone who uses the board to teach. But, after he got to the right end of the board (and also when he would finish going through a proof), he would quickly go up onto his tiptoes and back down again. It looked like a bounce. I always thought of it like a typewriter, when it would ding at the end of a line. It's almost like Prof. Kurtz had reached the right end of the board, and the bounce was a signal that he would now be starting on the left side; it was great.

I'm sure I have quirks of my own when teaching - I know that I tend to hold the back of my right hand to my chin, which sometimes leads to me getting chalk or marker on my face. I'm sure there are others my students know of that I have no idea I do.

Two teaching habits I do have stem from my very first teaching experience and stay with me to this day.

I can count the number of times I've not written out lesson plans on yellow legal pads. If you come to my office, I have a lot of yellow legal paper, filled with lessons I've taught over the years. At home, I'm staring at 4 thick, yellow, empty, legal pads waiting to be filled in with the chicken scratch I like to call my handwriting. The few times I've planned a class without a yellow legal pad, I've felt wrong, or dirty, in some way. The plans never looked right on the white paper, and I just felt like the classes I taught without yellow legal pads just didn't go well - it's all in my head, I know.

I never planned to be a teacher. To this day, I feel, in a small part, that I'm not supposed to be a teacher; like there is some Sliding Doors version of me in an alternate universe doing what I was "supposed" to do.

I was asked if I wanted to be a TA the Summer before I started grad school (by Prof. Kurtz, coincidentally). I said sure, I can grade papers, handle a section a week, no problem - I was assigned a class; to teach alone, 3 hours a week. The Friday before the semester started, I was handed a college algebra book and a yellow legal pad, and I've never let go of it.

When I walk into a room to teach, one of the first things I do is take my watch off and put it on the desk. I've only had one student who has ever asked me why I do this. It was several years ago, and when he asked, I didn't realize I did that everyday, and I couldn't give him an answer immediately. I thought about the question for overnight and into the next day, and then it hit me.

On that Monday, after I was handed a college algebra book and a yellow legal pad, I taught my first class at 8 am. I was a nervous wreck (but that's another blog post). I walked into the room, looked over the class and noticed there was no clock in the room. How was I to know when class was over? I didn't want to be one of those people who looked at their watch while doing their job (some think Bush Sr. lost to Clinton in 1992, because he did just that), so I put my watch on the desk. I could then check the time without, hopefully, being obvious.

Now, I teach in classrooms that all have clocks in them (and most of them are actually accurate), but I still take my watch off, and put it on the desk very soon after I get to the front of the classroom.

Two days in August 1998 created two habits I still carry with me 11 years later.