Here By the Owl

The owl is a time-honored emblem of knowledge and wisdom.
Being older than the rest of you, I am asked to advise you from time to time, as the need arises.
I hope my advice will always be based on true knowledge, and ripened with wisdom.

From the FFA opening ceremonies, in the official FFA handbook, circa 1978.

My dad was an FFA advisor. He taught agriculture at Horace Maynard High School beginning in the fall of 1955 until he became "just" an administrator about 1993. Much of the time, he was a teacher and administrator both. But in his capacity as ag teacher, he spoke the advisor's part of the opening ceremonies hundreds of times.

I heard him say the owl's part a few dozen times myself -- first, while trapped in his office after school listening to him and his "boys" practice for parliamentary procedure competition. The opening ceremonies were always a part of the contest requirements. Later, I was on his parliamentary procedure team myself, but that's another story.

In FFA meetings, each officer, including the advisor, is stationed at a bust of his official emblem. My dad's, of course, was an owl. He also had a stuffed, great-horned owl on the wall of his classroom. I never see an owl without thinking of my dad.

And that is fitting. He is, and has always been, a very wise man.

He had remarkable success with his high school program, especially considering the resources available to him. Not that he would have admitted that, ever. He would never take that credit.

He advised older "boys" too, because he worked with UT students doing their student-teaching in agricultural education. Several dozen University of Tennessee students passed through his program over the years on their way to teaching positions of their own. They would become owls, too.

He gave them good advice. "Start tough," he would tell them. "Let the students know you mean business from day one." That's important, because you can always ease up later. "But if you start off too easy, you can never go back the other way."

Part of Pop's success was a natural ability to size-up people, and a good, basic understanding of human nature.

When I was a high school freshman, it came to my attention that he was completely misjudging and mishandling one student in his class. I knew the guy. I'd gone all the way through school with him. He was bad news. And here my dad was treating him just like any ordinary student.

So, with all the wisdom of a young teen, I told my dad he was wrong.

Pop didn't seem too impressed with my advice. I wanted to know why.

He thought about that for a minute.

"Well, Lisa," he said. "It's like this. I know who that boy is. I know what he is. But he doesn't have to know that.

"You see, if I treat him like I know his reputation, why, he'll feel like he has to live up that reputation. If I treat him like everybody else, maybe he won't."

Did that actually work?, I asked.

Not always he admitted. But a surprising number of times, it did.

And wouldn't you know, the wise old owl was right. A whole bunch of boys who were trouble-makers in other classes never gave my dad much trouble at all.