How Queen Elizabeth Fueled My Career

For years, teaching in a small town middle school, I enjoyed mythic status, far beyond what I deserved. Whether or not I was a good teacher is for others to say, but I can say with utter confidence that I ran a tight ship. “Classroom management”, as it was called in the day, was my forte. And in this regard, Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth the Second, by the Grace of God, Queen of Canada and all her other realms and territories, was firmly in my corner.

Legend had it that I had eyes in the back of my head, and there was plenty of evidence. Those eyes were particularly acute in spotting young farm boys leaving their seats to wreak havoc, perhaps putting a toad on a girl’s desk.

Such adventures were invariably cut short with a curt, “Jimmy! Put that frog back in your pocket, sit down, and get to work.” All of this said and done casually without looking around and without a moment’s pause in writing this week’s spelling words in a column.

Older kids who graduated from my classes told their younger siblings, who would test the theory and quickly learn that, “Holy Crap! He really does have eyes in the back of his head!” To which their older brother would say, “See, Idiot? You should have listened to me!”

The truth, when it finally came out, was considerably more mundane. But first, the setting.

In those days, particularly in rural Ontario, the Queen was still a pretty big deal, and some classrooms even hung the Union Jack with, or in priority to, the Canadian flag. And nearly every classroom had a portrait of the Queen. Standard issue was about 20”x30”, shiny glass over a rather dark and austere majesty.

Now, to be sure, I have never been a monarchist. Like most Canadians, I was fond of Queen Elizabeth as a “nice lady” with high principles, but I had similar regard for my mother and my aunts. But I quickly learned that her portrait was my friend.

Said portrait, if hung at the right level above the chalkboard, and with just the right tilt, became a perfect, panoramic rear-view mirror, disguised as a mark of obligatory patriotism. Every corner of the classroom could be seen in perfect detail. Bowley did, it seems, have eyes in the back of his head.

I never shared my secret with my students, even long after they graduated, because their younger siblings were likely to enter my tutelage at a future date. A trade secret of the highest order, it served me well over the entirety of my career.

Being legendary in your profession isn’t mandatory, but it surely helps.