NEWTON'S LAW: WITH TEACHING SKILLS AT STAKE, WHY IS A PEDIGREE IMPORTANT?

Over the course of my education, kindergarten through college, I had dozens of teachers. Some of them I can't remember. A few I can't forget.

Wayne Norton was one of the few. And if I had to recall a particular point in time, where what happened then led directly to what I do now, he would be a part of that reminiscence.

I enjoyed history courses, though they aren't altogether central to my work today. Though most of my literature classes are fondly remembered, the application of great works isn't essential to journalism. My wish now is that I had been more studious in those days, but I lose little sleep over it.

Mr. Norton taught me things I use every moment I'm a newspaperman.

Seldom do I describe myself as a journalist. The description is too indulgent for my taste. Journalist is what they call an ink-stained wretch in his obituary.

Being a newspaperman suits me. Mr. Norton didn't teach his students at Southeast Missouri State that the job was grandiose or noble, just that it took care and skill to do well. A great many of us accepted the calling.

The class was called simply "Reporting." Here's what I remember: It was tough. Or, I should say, he was tough. Never did I have a professor more demanding, and there were times that semester when, under my breath, I substituted his name with a more colorful and unflattering alias.

His approach to teaching reporting was not hard to follow: you got facts right because the job demanded it. If you got facts wrong, there was no place for you in the newspaper business, and it was better for all involved that you learned it in college.

We drew lots for beat assignments and I found myself covering the university's science buildings. It took some resourcefulness to make your word quota on this beat, but I was doing splendidly with stories of American Chemical Society meetings and Grotto Club expeditions.

On the day I submitted a story on a Biology Club field trip, I mistakenly assumed the Kelso bird sanctuary was in the town of Kelso. The article Mr. Norton returned informed me otherwise. An "F" accompanied this information.

I growled that day at how rigid this man was ... and 16 years later, I remember the lesson.

The final consisted only of essay questions. I frantically scrawled for two hours, even cheating a few minutes into the time when the next class sifted in. When I picked up the exam later, it had an "A" on it, the same as my semester grade. I'm not sure I've done better work or been prouder of it since that time.

It surprises me still that I now cherish something that seemed so arduous at the time. Maybe that was another lesson I took from Mr. Norton.

This comes to mind now with the news Mr. Norton is not being welcomed back to the journalism faculty at the university this fall. After 24 years of employment there, he is being given his leave.

In addition to teaching, he spent his early years at the school in an administrative position, head of the university's news bureau. A doctorate was not necessary. That was long before the words "tenure track" became so popular and portentous.

When he was shifted to full-time teaching in the 1980s, he was given a set number of years to finish his doctoral work. With most of the work done, he was given an ominous-sounding "terminal contract" to teach this year. His dissertation in the works, he requested an extension of the time period in February. To date, he has received no answer, which he takes to be an answer in itself.

Mr. Norton doesn't complain about this. He knew the rules and missed meeting them. He is resigned to seek work elsewhere, though a lot of him is left at this university.

Here is the question that occurs to me: If education reformers are so intent on outcomes, and if emphasis has returned to the craft of teaching in the college classroom, why can't a good instructor be recognized for what he is instead of what he has before his name?

Maybe my ego allows me the presumption that Mr. Norton would even want credit for what I've become. On the days when I shoot and miss and on those days when I outright fail he may wince a bit and wonder if I spent my time in his classroom snoozing.

But perhaps he believes he did some good with me. And it prompts in me more than a little sadness to know he's leaving the university under these circumstances, when skillful teachers are needed regardless of academic pedigree.

Wayne Norton's departure reminds me of a debt I owe, one of gratitude. Students at his next stop will be well-served ... and lucky.