Joining the small ranks of male elementary school teachers are two educators who will contribute more than academic coaching.
By DONNA WINCHESTER
Published August 4, 2003
It wasn't likely that Earl Morris and Athian Early would meet.
While the Bronx-born Morris was adjusting to his family's move to Long Island, N.Y., in the late '70s, Early was growing up in the Childs Park neighborhood of St. Petersburg.
In the late '80s, Morris was in Grenada with the U.S. Marines while Early was attending Osceola Middle School. About the time Morris graduated from St. Petersburg Junior College with a two-year degree in business in the early '90s, Early was planning a law career.
Despite their differences, the men had two things in common. As children, both were guided by teachers who encouraged them to be the best they could be. As adults, both changed their career plans to become teachers so they could encourage other young people.
Morris, 38, and Early, 28, crossed paths last month at a three-day orientation for new Pinellas County teachers. They were members of a rare breed.
Of 179 fledgling elementary educators, they were among about 25 who were men. They were among only a handful who were African-Americans.
Stephen Crosby, an administrator in charge of hiring kindergarten and elementary school teachers, said that the district rarely finds more than 10 or 15 male teachers a year at the elementary level and that African-American male teachers are even harder to find.
"It's good for the little ones to see males in a teaching role," Crosby said. "It doesn't take a male to teach a male, but it's nice to see them going into the grade levels that call more for nurturing than simply instruction."
Neither Morris nor Early had any idea they were unique when they decided to become elementary school teachers. They were simply following a path to which they felt led.
For Morris, the call didn't come until after he turned 30. He had reached the rank of Marine Corps sergeant, commanded a platoon of 70 men and set foot on six continents, but he still felt an emptiness inside.
"I had traveled. I had gotten married. But I knew I could do more," he said. "There was more to be done, but I didn't know what it was."
His wife, who had watched him fly his radio-controlled airplanes and share his carpentry projects with the kids in their Lakewood Estates neighborhood, suggested he consider teaching.
In 2000, after taking a series of aptitude tests that indicated he would make a good educator, Morris began working on a bachelor's degree in education at the University of South Florida. A year later, he began an internship at Mount Vernon Elementary School.
"I didn't realize how great the kids could be," he said. "They were so eager to learn. It was like watching myself grow up again."
He started thinking back over his school years and realized the only male figures he had seen were the principal, the guidance counselor and the physical education coach. He didn't have a male teacher until he was in junior high.
Then one day, while observing a classroom exercise in which a teacher asked her students to draw pictures of their neighborhoods, he began to realize the special role he could play as an African-American male teacher.
"One of the black males drew a liquor store, a funeral parlor, a car wash and a church," he said. "Across the street from the church, he drew three people on the corner selling drugs. I said to myself, "This is how he sees his community.' "
Morris decided he wanted to show children they had other options. He began developing what he considers his teaching philosophy.
"When you're in that classroom, you have 24 or 25 sons and daughters," he said. "They are like your kids. You are their mom and dad for that period of time in the classroom. It's a big responsibility."
On Tuesday, Morris will begin teaching a first-grade class at Ridgecrest Elementary School in Largo. He will earn an entry-level teacher's salary of $30,700.
His only worry is that his booming voice and military bearing might frighten the children.
"I don't want them to fear me," he said. "I want them to know I'm there to help."
Like Morris, Early found himself with loose ends after receiving his two-year degree from St. Petersburg College.
"I wasn't sure where I was going, so I got down on my knees and prayed one night," he said. "I asked the Lord to lead me to where he wanted me. Less than a week later, Bethune-Cookman College was calling me with a scholarship offer."
Early moved to Daytona Beach and began training to be a special education teacher. As graduation approached in the spring, Pinellas County Schools recruiting specialist James Feazell visited the school and encouraged Early to come back to St. Petersburg.
"I was thinking, "I would love to give back to the community, to the kids in my neighborhood,' " Early said. "There's not much in our neighborhood to look up to. There was a lot of drug dealing, a lot of shooting. I'm one of the few who went to college and finished."
He and his fiancee, who is also a teacher, moved back to St. Petersburg with their 1-year-old daughter. In June, he attended the district's career fair, where he interviewed with several principals, including Michael Marckese from Pasadena Fundamental School.
"We just clicked," Early said. "It turned out I went to school with his nephew at Gibbs (High School). My mom worked with him a long time ago when he was an assistant principal at Cross Bayou (Elementary School). I guess it was meant to be."
Marckese hired Early at a starting salary of $30,700 to work with struggling students, most of whom will be in fourth grade. One of his biggest challenges, he said, will be to find the right strategy for each student.
"As a teacher, you can't just teach one way every day," he said. "You have to change it up. You have to make modifications for different learning styles and make it exciting."
He learned during his internship that young children often are looking for role models.
"I had some kids who came from some wild backgrounds," he said. "They were pouring their hearts out to me all the time. One kid started dressing like me. He told me, "I want to be a teacher when I grow up.' "
Early's teaching experience, although limited, has taught him that teachers wear more than one hat.
"A teacher is more than a person who presents a lesson to kids, who teaches them how to add and subtract and read and write," he said. "At times, we have to be their mom and dad and their big brother. We have to be their counselor. We have to be somebody who's always encouraging them."
