Bob Clark: "The World Needs Ditch-Diggers, Too"

My definition of a great educator is a person who can teach a student how to do something that the student would not otherwise be able to do or learn on their own. I had many good teachers throughout my childhood, people that worked hard and challenged me and my classmates. The one person who still stands out today in my mind as great was a smart, surly and sarcastic math genius named Bob Clark.

Mr. Clark's smarts were off the charts. I passed those upper level math classes only because of him, plain and simple. If Mr. Clark knew a student was willing to work,  he didn't let them give up or fail. His surliness was mostly bravado but definitely by design, keeping students on their toes as well as burnishing his reputation. The truth behind Mr. Clark's bluster was that he cared very deeply about his students and his subject. The sarcasm, however, was genuine and undoubtedly what his students recall fondly about Mr. Clark.

One particular scene played out in his classroom day after day, month after month, year after year. Mr. Clark used only two teaching tools: an overhead projector and wet-erase markers. Every class period of every day his hands would slowly turn blue and red and green and black  as he relentlessly worked through math problems on a transparency, solving them, then wiping off one set of numbers after another. He would tackle each student's question one at a time, but doing it in such a way that everyone learned from his explanations. The consistent level of concentration from most students in his classroom created an almost intimate atmosphere—one in which real learning took place.

Heaven help the student, however, who tried to out-sarcasm The Master. One refrain has echoed across the decades, repeated fondly by Mr. Clark's former students whether they graduated in the 1960's or 1990's. Picture the scene:

You are nodding off or have fallen asleep in Mr. Clark's class (a monumental mistake). In a not so subtle way, he rouses you awake and loudly announces, "Don't worry insert last name here, keep sleeping. The world needs ditch-diggers, too." You are embarrassed. Kids are laughing, but not at Mr. Clark. His six simple words have struck at the heart of the matter—that if you don't care enough about your own education there is a joyless, back-breaking job waiting for you. The world needs ditch-diggers, too.

I have been a teacher now for a generation. Adulthood, and having one job for so long, has been its own education. Working with kids every day has taught me that Mr. Clark was so right, but in ways both intentional and inadvertent. He nailed it—ability does not trump effort. Mr. Clark demanded effort because he knew it led to success in whatever way a person chooses to measure it. Simple math, really.

But for all of the scorn implied in Mr. Clark's unforgettable line, he also didn't know how right he was (actually he probably did). We are not created equal. For all of my multi-syllabic word use (including multi-syllabic), I still don't know how to change the oil in my car or cut down a tree with a chainsaw so it doesn't come crashing down on me or how to properly load a gun. With effort, yes, I could learn and overcome my inability. But I don't want to, which is the point.

I believe education serves two functions. The first is tangible—learning concepts and skills that can be applied to life and future learning. In this realm, students identify areas of interest they might one day turn into professional pursuits. The second function is much more elusive, but probably a greater indicator of employability. Learning, at its core, is a marathon—an endurance race in which a student's primary competition is with oneself. There is a start and a finish to all levels of schooling, and effort matters most. You have to persevere, train hard, run long. No shortcuts. Bob Clark knew this. His signature line was never a knock on ditch-diggers, but rather a persistent lack of effort that might lead a person to fall into a bottomless pit of a job in which one's self-respect is unrecoverable.

I'm guessing he also knew that traditional schooling is not for everyone. Unfortunately, Education (with a capital E) has sold the American people the false premise that says, "Everyone can go to a four-year college." Yes, everyone can. No, everyone shouldn't. The result has been hordes of baristas and sandwich artists living with mom and dad while paying down their $500 a month student loans with only degrees in Political Science and Art History to show for it, but no real skills. Yikes! Loan default here they come.

No, the United States is not be a manufacturing haven anymore. Those jobs went west and east and south a long time ago. They're not coming back. But as our national infrastructures continue to deteriorate, we are a country in desperate need of skilled laborers. Such skills aren't gained by attending a liberal arts college. They come from getting direct technical training and practical field experience. There is no shame in that. We need those people, and in great numbers.

But either way—whether it is a white collar profession or a blue collar job—effort trumps ability, in attitude, application and outlook. I'm sure that's why Bob Clark always wore that devilish, knowing grin when he spoke with a twinkle in his eye and said, "The world needs ditch-diggers too, Bergman. The world needs ditch-diggers too."