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Published on 01/19/1998 All articles from this issue

The journey of the little gold key

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By Charlotte K. Jarmy

It seems eons ago that I was inducted into a prestigious fraternity as a senior in college. Along with the pleasure of attaining academic status, came the knowledge that the little gold key really was a gift to my parents. My parents never faltered from their plan to send me, as well as my brother, to college.

Hunter College in New York City carried the cachet of a fine institution of higher education. An all-female college, it turned out teachers who worked hard and were inspired by dedicated professors. Receiving a Phi Beta Kappa membership from Hunter could be compared to receiving one from the University of California. Perhaps my future plans to continue graduate work at Columbia, then marry and move to magical California, relieved me of the fear of the dreaded test. I couldn't be happier: all in one year I had received my Phi Bete key, married the man I loved and moved thousands of miles away to fulfill my dreams.

Keys usually open doors. I fully expected my distinctive new key to make school officials welcome me with delight. I wore the key to every interview, but there was a glut of secondary teachers in the Bay Area at the time. Luckily my husband had a good job with the state that sent out monthly checks. We had to budget carefully, something I had never studied at Hunter. Many were the days at the end of the month that we ate lettuce and tomato sandwiches or macaroni and cheese.

It took another year before I found a job on an emergency credential teaching first grade. Those adorable 6-year-olds had me jumping through hoops as I struggled to understand the phonics system and their favorite part of the day: show and tell.

My life took another path after two years. I left teaching to begin the lifelong challenge of motherhood. Being Phi Bete meant nothing to me or to my three sons. I moved on again, however, when my hard-pressed husband pushed me back into academia with, "This family needs another wage earner."

Once again, I dug out the little gold key, just as shiny and hopeful as ever as a symbol of success. I wore it to all interviews and hit the jackpot with a teaching position at then Awalt High School.

I lost touch with my key after 20 years of teaching. But this year I read about the fine history of the society and the pride its members had in every part of our country. My key was lost, but after some heavy-duty thinking, I decided to put out the money for a new key, a smaller, more delicate one I could wear on a chain around my neck.

What helped me make that decision? This time I realized that I had earned the honor not for my mother, but for myself. All the hours of teaching myself to be the best teacher of English I knew how to be, of watching and listening to more experienced teachers work magic in their classrooms.

Hunter College retreated in my mind. In my present position at Stanford as a supervisor of student-teachers at STEP, I realize how very lucky these young future teachers are. The exposure to the philosophy of teaching, the creative teaching of their professors, the quality of caring put out endlessly by STEP leaders will add immeasurably to the students' lives when they find positions as full-time teachers. I doubt that they realize that yet.

What is marvelous to listen to is their earnest determination to create better lives for their future students through education. They will face an uphill battle. Yet there are small victories, a joining at the hip with friends who feel the need to teach and the pleasure of seeing, actually seeing their own success in the faces of their young students.

It has been a long journey, but the little gold key is truly mine. It represents what I deeply believe in.

Charlotte Kaye Jarmy is a Los Altos resident and longtime contributor to the Town Crier.