An Evening With Mr. Holland

Actors are often linked to their most significant/most popular role. When an actor’s career is long and successful, the part associated with them is often more to do with the individual’s first exposure to the actor’s work. Walking into the panel with Richard Dreyfuss, most of the attendees were headed in to spend time with Hooper from Jaws. Or, if not the bane of Quint’s existence, then they were looking to spend time with Roy from Close Encounters of the Third Kind. Both of these roles and movies made a massive impact on audiences and the cinematic world. But, I, as you know from my post about Jaws, came late to Amity Island, and I have not worked up the courage to see Close Encounters of the Third Kind. Yeah, I know, I know. I’ll get there eventually.

When I walked into the ballroom at the Omni Hotel, the man of the hour was Mr. Holland, the musician turned teacher who won the hearts and minds of three decades worth of students. Whatever expectations I had of how the sixty minutes were going to be spent, I can’t recall. I suppose I imagined a lot of talk about bigger boats and the USS Indianapolis. Mr. Dreyfuss closed the door on that line of discussion early. There were already plenty of interviews we could find to get the answers to those questions. Instead, he promised a better conversation if we left those tired inquiries on the table. And for one night, Mr. Holland took up his mantle again. He held the room enthralled while he discussed the value of teachers and the effects of the removal of Civics from the standard curriculum.

The importance of teachers is not a new topic of conversation, but given the atypical venue the subject was presented in, the reminder hit a bit harder than usual. As a kid, it’s often hard to see teachers as anything other than homework handing out killjoys. Our attitudes reflected that a lot of the time, I suspect. But, the mental list we all carry around of favorite and influential teachers says they are much more than that to us. Mr. Dreyfuss joked that teachers are one of the few things standing in the way of parents and first-degree murder. I am not a parent; however, I have certainly been witness to, on more than one occasion, the harried and fed up look of parents on their very last nerve. Without the escape the time at school provides, I don’t think the joke would be far off from the actual truth.

On the opposite side of things, how often do you hear the joke about teachers being lucky because they get summers off? In some cases, it’s said in a lament. A desire to have the ability to be free from June to August just like in youth. And, yes, that does sound marvelous to have a three-month-long sabbatical every year from your profession. It is not a reality, even for teachers. Many teachers take on a second job during those months to supplement income. They are, often, back in the classroom well before students arrive to prepare for the coming year. Other times, I feel it is said not as a joke but as a commentary on inherent laziness or lack of seriousness associated with the job. I was a teaching assistant for six months. Hands down, it was one of the hardest things I have ever done. These men and women elect to take on sharing the responsibility of molding the next generation. They do this in spite of the fickle nature of the intrinsic and extrinsic rewards. Anyone who thinks teachers have it easy can take a long walk off of a short pier. Preferably one found on Amity Island during the July 4th weekend.

His other topic of conversation is one I had never really considered. The reason for that lack of consideration is because I never knew I was missing out on something. Mr. Dreyfuss pointed out in his talk Civics started disappearing from schools forty years ago. This happened in much the same fashion that Mr. Holland found himself ousted from his profession in Mr. Holland’s Opus. The concept of civics being rolled into other courses in a diminished capacity. Which explains why in middle school, they used the term social studies. Personally thought it was an odd way to describe history class. But it would make sense if we were supposed to be getting a side helping of civics.

I do remember a bit of that in school, but everything was given a historical voice. We had plenty of opportunities to understand the ramifications of the Founding Fathers flipping England the bird and writing the Constitution. But there was little to no discussion about our involvement in keeping the bird flying, so to speak. Enter the problem Mr. Dreyfuss spent the better part of his hour talking about.

Mr. Dreyfuss’ promise at the top of the hour was not an empty one by any means. Sitting in that ballroom gave me a different perspective on the political climate, especially that of the last three years. I’m left with a lot of questions. What do we do for the up and coming students? But most importantly, if my parents were the last generation to have been sat down and given an introduction to our responsibility, how do we retroactively provide that introduction to a much older population?

As I sit here reflecting on the evening now, what comes to mind is a scene from Downton Abbey’s first season. Hugh Bonneville’s character is asked if he cares about the fate of Downton. He rails, “I have given my life to Downton…I claim no career beyond the nurture of this house and the estate. It is my third parent and my fourth child.” The character was expressing he was not only a product of Downton but also its caretaker. Richard Dreyfuss, toward the end of the time allotted, reminded the audience that the Constitution states, “We, the people,” in its opening address, resting the power of a nation in the hands of many instead of one person. We cannot just claim to be a product of this country, but we must also be its caretakers.

Deep thoughts to be taking away from an event that, to some, is centered around adults chasing childhood, right? But, As Mr. Holland’s on-screen journey showed us, what you expect and what you find are usually two different things.