I’m not a war monger, but my four years as a grunt in the U.S. Army had a big impact on my life. I left a dysfunctional birth family in Seattle to join other dysfunctional young men of all races for boot camp in Texas, later in Georgia. During breaks, we shared our stories. Some of us were given a choice by a southern judge: join the army or go to jail. Some were running away from family responsibilities, some from chronic unemployment, some from lost dreams, some from big-city gangs, and some from small-town boredom. We were an army of the poor. I never heard anyone in boot camp admit to signing up for patriotic reasons. We were hoping that the military would take us to a better place, give us a fresh start.
The army certainly did give us a fresh start. We learned many new habits: a new way to talk, to walk, to wear our clothes, to put our clothes away, to think. We had to change, or the army wouldn’t keep us.
In my platoon of 40 men (there were few women in the army in those days, and none in my boot camp), four failed to complete it. They were kicked out. One pulled a knife on a drill sergeant, two refused to follow any orders, and one had a mental breakdown. But 36 of us did make it through and were eventually deployed to units around the world.
When I face a composition class in a community college, I often reflect upon my military service for inspiration about how to teach. A few students are with me because they really want to learn how to write. But most of them tell me that they are eager to “get ‘comp’ out of the way” so that they can go on to do what they really want to do: transfer to a four-year college, then graduate and find a job, or at least find a better job. I understand that.
I like being a community college English professor, because I have the opportunity to make a difference. I’m both a teacher and a gate keeper, a bit like the drill sergeant in boot camp, though my methods are much gentler. I’m teaching students to enter a new world, to prepare for a better way of life. I’m reminding them that skills such as regular attendance, punctuality, civil discourse, and hard work are valuable. I’m showing them how language, both spoken and written, needs to be adjusted, changed, to work effectively in different rhetorical situations. Most students will learn to adjust and make it through my classes, but a few will fail. Perhaps those who fail may learn from their mistakes and do better the next time around.
Occasionally, students may contact me, express thanks for my teaching, then ask for a letter of recommendation for graduate school, for nursing school, for law school, or for a job. I enjoy these moments, because they remind me that I have contributed, at least in a small way, to someone else’s personal and professional growth. I have helped them to find a better place.