Mr. Bandermann meets the folks at open house

~ Editor's note: The names of students have been changed in this story.

Jason Bandermann turns off his favorite radio station, but the three-mile drive to Central Junior High School isn't made in silence.

His eyes jump from the road in front of him to the dashboard clock as he rehearses out loud the five-minute speech he'll deliver six times on this sweltering August evening.

With the first two weeks of school behind him, the 23-year-old is still learning the names of his 130 eighth-grade math students.

And now it's time to meet the parents.

He has heard the occasional story of teachers clashing with difficult parents, and there was little in his three years as an education major at Southeast Missouri State University to prepare him for interaction with his students' mothers and fathers.

But Mr. Bandermann, just three months out of college, isn't worried about confrontational parents tonight. The junior high's annual back-to-school event is a time for "nice-to-meet-yous" and summaries of class expectations.

For 16 days, he has lived the life he spent countless nights dreaming of and years working to achieve. Already, he's discovered some of the profession's joys.

There was the moment he realized some of his students started returning his "hellos," rather than ignoring him or mumbling as they had before.

Gradually, there were after-class conversations with a few of them about the Cardinals' chances of making the playoffs and his own love of long-distance running.

Then there was the time when, after several disruptions to his fifth-hour basic math class, he pulled an uncooperative student into the hall and said candidly, "You're a leader in this class. When you're quiet, everyone else is quiet. When you're rowdy, they're rowdy. What kind of a leader are you going to be?"

His question was met with silence from the student, but Mr. Bandermann thought he saw a flicker of understanding in the young man's eyes.

But the real eye-opener for Mr. Bandermann came from several late nights of planning the next day's lessons and looking over more than 100 pages of homework.

Having grown up a teacher's kid, Mr. Bandermann knew teaching wasn't an 8 a.m. to 3 p.m. job. Still, he had no idea just how much time outside the classroom teaching could consume.

But these thoughts are not at the forefront of his mind as he writes his name and phone number on the white board shortly before parents arrive in his classroom. They will come in six groups, following a mock schedule of their children's classes.

Earlier that day, almost all of his students had indicated that their parents would be in attendance tonight.

Mr. Bandermann worries that the five minutes he'll have with each group of parents won't be enough to say all that he'd like. He is right. The first 10 parents are barely seated in the desks normally occupied by their students before it is time to leave.

A few linger, voicing worries about their children's mathematical abilities.

"Your daughter will be fine. We're going to work on all of that," he reassures one mother.

Mr. Bandermann talks faster during the next session, stalking the front of the room just as he does when addressing his adolescent pupils. Still, he is cut off midsentence by the loudspeaker announcement that the mock second-hour class is over.

He jumps right to the point in the third session.

"I'm fresh out of the water, but I don't want you to feel your child isn't getting a good education because I'm new at this," he tells a group of eight parents. "I'll be learning along with the students when it comes to teaching, but I know my math and I'm confident I can teach math to your children."

There are no looks of surprise or concern on the faces of these mothers and fathers, just welcoming smiles. This is a relief for Mr. Bandermann, who had wondered how they would feel about his lack of experience.

Near the front of the classroom, parent Bob Gowen studies the young man who will teach his daughter pre-algebra over the next nine months.

His daughter has said little about the class since the start of school, but past experience with first-year teachers has been positive for Gowen. He's sure Mr. Bandermann will not be an exception and leaves the classroom confident his daughter is in good hands.

Mr. Bandermann's first four sessions -- all intermediate or advanced math classes -- draw between eight and 10 parents each.

Jack's mom

A woman, who introduces herself as Jack's mom, is the lone parent in the fifth session, the first of two basic math courses.

She is full of concern for Jack, who has a history of struggling with math.

Mr. Bandermann decides to abandon his five-minute speech and pulls up a chair.

"Well," he says. "Your son is a social butterfly."

He tells her of Jack's tendency to talk in class and about how he moved him to the front row of desks after the first few days of school.

He also tells her that already her son has failed to turn in two homework assignments.

"Even if he understands the work, I can't give him credit if he doesn't turn it in," he says.

She leaves with a determined look on her face, and Mr. Bandermann hopes this will be the end of Jack's missing homework.

The next session -- another basic math class and his final of the evening -- is made up of just two parents.

He thinks about how nearly all of his students raised their hands when he asked if their parents were planning to come to the back-to-school event.

The attendance, particularly in the basic math classes, is disappointing. But then he thinks about parents who may have to work nights, or perhaps irresponsible students who forgot to give their parents notes from school. He hopes parent-teacher conferences at the end of October will have a better turnout.

Between now and then, there will be more ups and downs in the classroom. He'll give tests and send out his first report cards. There will be more disruptions in class, plenty of lessons taught.

And the learning will go both ways.

cclark@semissourian.com

335-6611, extension 128