that's BOOKENDS!

I don't want to knock small town Southern public schools, but the last good history teacher that I had was in the seventh grade. I have learned not to participate in conversations when any amount of history knowledge is required, because I can't keep up. I regularly had great teachers in all the other areas, so I suppose I can't complain too much if that one particular subject was a little lacking. And maybe it wasn't the teachers at all, but the student. Either way, not much was retained.

But let's talk about that one good history teacher, Mrs. Mackey, my seventh grade teacher that everyone said was the worst, meanest seventh grade teacher you could get. You know what? She was mean, because she did not take any crap. I can't blame her, because if I remember correctly, thirteen year olds are chock full of crap. It's practically bursting out of them. Mrs. Mackey expected thirteen year olds to take responsibility for themselves and to pretend, at least during her class, that they were actual human beings who could behave as such. Her tests were hard, but the material was clearly pointed out beforehand, so anyone had the opportunity to learn it. She wasn't unfriendly or without humor. We watched a couple of movies in that class, too. But we watched Gandhi, a movie with actual historical relevance.

If you can't tell, I have a great deal of respect for Mrs. Mackey. If I had to be a seventh grade teacher, I like to think that I would follow in her model. That is, if I didn't claw my own eyes out first.

From my description thus far, you're picturing a tough woman, stern with a no-nonsense haircut. You'd be right. But let me tell you something else about Mrs. Mackey that I bet you didn't guess.

Mrs. Mackey liked Paul Simon. She also really liked Ladysmith Black Mambazo, a South African choral group who appeared on the Graceland album. Liking Ladysmith Black Mambazo seemed much more legitimate and allowed for a middle-aged history teacher; it was cultural and stuff. So I had no problem that she liked a musical group that had something to do with the subject she taught. That made sense to me. And so I convinced myself that she liked Paul Simon because he exposed more people to this other music that she liked. We watched part of The African Concert in class, but we only watched the parts with African performers. It seemed a little out of place in the curriculum, but it still seemed educational enough to be allowed in the class of such a strict woman. At thirteen, I didn't know very much about Paul Simon, other than that he was a pop singer, and at one point, he had been popular among hippies. Had Mrs. Mackey been a hippie? I mean, I guess she had been about the right age, but...nope, sorry, does not compute.

But there were a couple of times when we were watching Channel One, the daily homeroom newscast for public school kids, when Mrs. Mackey would jump up, point at the TV, and almost yell, "That's BOOKENDS!" None of us had any idea what she was talking about. We did not see any bookends. It was several years later, when I heard Bookends, that I understood: Mrs. Mackey really liked Paul Simon. Not because he worked with Ladysmith Black Mambazo, but because she liked his music.

In fact, Mrs. Mackey may have well been a hippie. She might have burned a bra in her day or even smoked pot. Then again, she might just have liked Paul Simon, for which I cannot blame her; Paul Simon is probably my favorite songwriter of all time. I suppose it was the first time it occurred to me that teachers were not just the subjects they taught. They didn't disappear into the mists every day after the bell rang only to appear again in a different denim jumper the next day. They hadn't always been middle-aged. They had all been young once and some of them had liked folk rock singers. The mind boggles.

Here are a couple of clips for you. First, one of my favorite music videos of all time. That Chevy Chase, he cracks me up.



And now, Ladysmith Black Mambazo performing with another great entertainer. That's them singing. But they're not blue and made of foam.



Here's to you, Mrs. Mackey.