Jeffrey Schechter
When he praised you, you always felt like a million bucks. When he screamed at you, you were disappointed; not in him but in yourself for doing something stupid, something immature or unprofessional. He was the one teacher who always inspired me to want to be better. Sure, the next day I would find some way to incur his wrath again, but it didn't matter, because we knew that he loved us. It was like getting yelled at by a parent, you never had to take it personally.
And the perks. He took me to Don Giovanni and the Pirates of Penzance. We went to Italy senior year and walked all over the countryside. He would drive me home after late rehersals. I am a middle school teacher today,and granted times are different, but I could not even contemplate attempting to have the same sort of relationship with a student that Mr. Trautwein had with a countless number of kids. I often think of Mr. Trautwein when I try to motivate students. But I don't ever feel that I reach any of my students in nearly the same way that he reached me, my brother and our friends. Even though I, like many others lost touch with him over the years, knowing that he is gone will really make me miss him so much more.
Jeffrey Schechter:
This story dates back to the fall of 1973 during Blind Brook's opening weeks. For some reason that I cannot recall, the seventh grade started the school year at Ridge Street. It was several weeks before we joined the eighth through tenth grades at the new building. I remember getting a tour of the new building and as we were passing by a math class, Tom Reistetter fell to his knees and cried out "I hate seventh graders" (as a middle school teacher I can now appreciate what he was talking about). This new place was clearly not going to be business as usual.
My brother was in tenth grade and had been already been attending early morning rehearsals for some new choir. He and my mother urged me to join when I moved to the new building. After some initial resistance I agreed to try it. So at the ungodly hour of 6:45 I got in the car for my first 7 a.m. rehearsal.
But it was not a rehearsal that I found that first morning. All these older kids were lined up waiting to enter a stairwell for some reason that was completely unknown to me. Being a dutiful seventh grader, I got on line. People kept saying to me, "I didn't know you were going to audition." Well I didn't know either, but I waited on line. Finally, it was my turn to enter the stairwell. There was Mr. Trautwein behind the piano. He asked me my name and proceeded to have me sing scales. He encouraged me when I faltered. He showed me how to use falsetto (my voice was still several months away from changing). Finally, he explained that I had auditioned for the Consort Choir which was to be a select group of high school singers. Clearly I was unqualified for this. However, he was extremely patient with me and encouraged me to join the regular choir, and to sign up for seventh grade boys choir as a class, something that I did not know even existed.
When I showed up for my first class, I was the only person who had signed up. I figured, "well that's the end of that." Mr. Trautwein walked in, took one look at me and grabbed me by the arm and dragged me into the Commons. He demanded to know who my friends were. Then he proceeded to use tactics that probably had gone unused since the British Navy stopped empressing sailors in the nineteenth century. By the next day we had about ten members of the seventh grade boys choir. This group would stay together for the next six years, culminating with a trip to Italy in 1979. He was indeed a force of nature.
Jeffrey Schechter
"I don't care if you loooathe me. But by God you'll work for me."
When he praised you, you always felt like a million bucks. When he screamed at you, you were disappointed; not in him but in yourself for doing something stupid, something immature or unprofessional. He was the one teacher who always inspired me to want to be better. Sure, the next day I would find some way to incur his wrath again, but it didn't matter, because we knew that he loved us. It was like getting yelled at by a parent, you never had to take it personally.
And the perks. He took me to Don Giovanni and the Pirates of Penzance. We went to Italy senior year and walked all over the countryside. He would drive me home after late rehersals. I am a middle school teacher today,and granted times are different, but I could not even contemplate attempting to have the same sort of relationship with a student that Mr. Trautwein had with a countless number of kids. I often think of Mr. Trautwein when I try to motivate students. But I don't ever feel that I reach any of my students in nearly the same way that he reached me, my brother and our friends. Even though I, like many others lost touch with him over the years, knowing that he is gone will really make me miss him so much more.
Jeffrey Schechter:
This story dates back to the fall of 1973 during Blind Brook's opening weeks. For some reason that I cannot recall, the seventh grade started the school year at Ridge Street. It was several weeks before we joined the eighth through tenth grades at the new building. I remember getting a tour of the new building and as we were passing by a math class, Tom Reistetter fell to his knees and cried out "I hate seventh graders" (as a middle school teacher I can now appreciate what he was talking about). This new place was clearly not going to be business as usual.
My brother was in tenth grade and had been already been attending early morning rehearsals for some new choir. He and my mother urged me to join when I moved to the new building. After some initial resistance I agreed to try it. So at the ungodly hour of 6:45 I got in the car for my first 7 a.m. rehearsal.
But it was not a rehearsal that I found that first morning. All these older kids were lined up waiting to enter a stairwell for some reason that was completely unknown to me. Being a dutiful seventh grader, I got on line. People kept saying to me, "I didn't know you were going to audition." Well I didn't know either, but I waited on line. Finally, it was my turn to enter the stairwell. There was Mr. Trautwein behind the piano. He asked me my name and proceeded to have me sing scales. He encouraged me when I faltered. He showed me how to use falsetto (my voice was still several months away from changing). Finally, he explained that I had auditioned for the Consort Choir which was to be a select group of high school singers. Clearly I was unqualified for this. However, he was extremely patient with me and encouraged me to join the regular choir, and to sign up for seventh grade boys choir as a class, something that I did not know even existed.
When I showed up for my first class, I was the only person who had signed up. I figured, "well that's the end of that." Mr. Trautwein walked in, took one look at me and grabbed me by the arm and dragged me into the Commons. He demanded to know who my friends were. Then he proceeded to use tactics that probably had gone unused since the British Navy stopped empressing sailors in the nineteenth century. By the next day we had about ten members of the seventh grade boys choir. This group would stay together for the next six years, culminating with a trip to Italy in 1979. He was indeed a force of nature.
Jeffrey Schechter
"I don't care if you loooathe me. But by God you'll work for me."
