I know this guy whose salary was just about $6,000 when he started teaching fourth grade in 1968. That works out to $4.07 per hour. That sounds tough, but keep in mind that a gallon of gas was 34 cents, a gallon of milk was a buck, and you could get a decent home for $26 grand.  You could even get a dozen eggs for fifty cents…but, on the flip side, you’d be lucky to live to see seventy.  He repeated the process for thirty consecutive years, and thanks to the New York Teachers’ Union, he did better than the typical 3% per year.  Imagine this: if the guy got a 3% increase every year for his whole career, he’d have retired in 1998, making about $14,000.00, or $9.50 per hour. 

That’d have been tough – $9.50 an hour to support a wife and four kids when home prices were approaching $200K. I have to thank the union for that because the fellow I am writing about is my Dad.  Without those unions so many people complain about on TV, things would be very different for the American education professional…if any would have stayed in the field.  Tonight’s post will be a little different because I will stop typing in just a minute.  I have to break from the usual protocol to let someone else tell the story. 

Dad is now 81 years old, and he recently made a trip back to the classroom that he was given in his first year of teaching.  Back at 24th Street School in Niagara Falls, NY, the first public school educator they called Mr. Baldassarre, had his kids run into his room one day and tell him that they saw a UFO.  Wisely, he asked the kids to take out some paper and crayons and draw what they saw.  It gets a little eerie here because the children all pretty much drew the exact same thing.  I’m no detective – but I know weird when I see it.  He saved the pictures, and I have seen them.  The only thing I can think is that Bell Aerospace – a factory in Niagara Falls was testing something…over the city. 

I am going to let Lynnette Haley O’Stewart take it from here.  Lynnette is the administrator of the Niagara Falls City School District’s Community Education Center.  Lynnette, thank you for your kindness and writing about my dad, your eloquence with words, and the time that you took to craft them. 

I had the distinct pleasure meeting you father Italo Baldassarre, Sr. when he paid a visit to the District’s Head Start program located in the former 24th Street School. I greeted your father and engaged in a lovely conversation with him about his years as a 4th grade teacher at the old 24th Street School. He asked me if he could see his former classroom on the second floor and I obliged. As we walked the hallway and up the stairs he shared with me how much this opportunity meant to him and thanked me for taking the time to meet with him and accompany him to his former classroom. When we approached his former classroom, he walked by an old drinking fountain and commented it was still in the same place as he remembered. He pointed to classroom 208 and stated, “this was my classroom” as he smiled with a twinkle in his eyes. When we entered the classroom, he paused and quietly sighed as if he was taking in the present moment as fully as possible. I sensed he was reflecting upon a special time in his life and I felt so happy to be able to share this moment with him even though I just met him for the first time.

You father showed me a photograph of him and his fourth-grade class of students taken in 1968 in the classroom we were standing. He was dressed handsomely in a suit and told me he was 22 years old in that picture. In the photograph the classroom was numbered 15 back then. This classroom is now 208 used for parent trainings/meetings and it was not in use during his visit. He walked around the classroom and commented that the same old wooden built in cabinets remain in the room just as he remembered. He looked out of the classroom window located on the westside of the building facing 24th Street. He told me the view is as he remembered.

He showed me where his file cabinet and desk used to be and pointed out where the clock and American flag were displayed when it was his classroom. Your father also reached out his hand to touch the old original blackboard he wrote on using chalk during his time teaching in that classroom. He told me about his first year as a teacher and indicated the photograph he shared with me was taken during that first school year. He also shared how he emigrated to the United States from Italy in 1958 and made Niagara Falls his home. Your father told me his father and other family were carpenters and that he never intended to become a teacher. He expected he may just teach for a short time until he found something else. However, as fate would have it he stayed teaching and grew to love it. He spoke highly of you and your siblings and how you have all chosen a career in education. He is truly proud of you and your siblings. He spoke of his love of family. He spoke of former students and how he much they meant and still mean to him. He spoke of his love of teaching and how after his career as a teacher he devoted his time to teaching karate to children with special needs, ADHD, and other challenges.

I have attached a picture taken of your father and I outside of the old principal’s office. He shared a bit about his interactions with his old former principal at 24th St. School and how he found a way to soften her tough exterior as she was a rather curt administrator. He shared how he had been reprimanded for using the incorrect color of ink in his teacher record book. Three colors of ink (black, blue, and red) were to be used for specific purposes and teachers were disciplined when they used the incorrect ink color. He told me, over time, his work relationship improved with her and he even helped her with student discipline using karate as a positive outlet for challenging students.

My time spent with your father this afternoon was special and I felt compelled to share my interaction with you as his beloved son. If I were in your shoes, it would mean a lot to me to learn of such a heartwarming and positive interaction with my father or mother. You and your siblings are so fortunate to have such a tender, caring, and reflective father in your life. I lost my father in August of 2008 and spending just a short, but meaningful time with your father this afternoon, stirred up fond memories of my own father.

Even though I do not know you well, I feel like I do now after spending time with your dear father. I hope my sharing of this special interaction with your father sparks joy for you today.