"I worked too hard"--Mr. Hurley's Last Class

The first class that Joe Hurley taught at CM was in September 1972, thirty-seven years ago.

His last class was Thursday afternoon.

Even in his final classes this week, one could see what Mr. Hurley had come to consider a “teaching philosophy” over the course of his career. It included being soft-spoken and patient with students, treating each student’s individual needs, setting students up for success, and above all, having a sense of humor.

“Alright, get those tests out, I’m coming around,” Mr. Hurley told his English 9 students the day before his last day of classes.



With the alacrity of the younger teachers who share a classroom with him, Mr. Hurley ventured into the aisles and checked that tests were signed and corrected. “Alright, write this down somewhere,” he then said. “I didn’t put Of Mice and Men on your final exam, because if I did, you just wouldn’t have time to finish.”

Mr. Hurley then went over some grammar exercises with his students that he’d given them on a final exam study guide. With all the same diligence he’d showed over thousands and thousands of classes through four decades, he guided the students through the review.

“In line 1, you have to have a period after 'Sumatra.' When I say have to, there’s just no other way you’re gonna do it.”

“I’m presuming you guys aren’t raising your hands because you guys know why you got something wrong.”

Students casually tested the teacher as though he were in his first year and not his 37th. "I don’t understand," one said, and another, "How’d you grade this?"

Mr. Hurley would likely scoff at anyone searching for meaning in some of his final words to his students:

“Be careful: sometimes you need to follow more than one rule at a time.”

“There were a thousand and fifty points this quarter. I worked too hard.”

One student—let’s call him Phil—joked about Mr. Hurley’s age under his breath. After teasing him right back, Hurley continued with the lesson.

“Therefore is just like however. It doesn’t introduce subordinate clauses—remember that. I’m not saying that it’s going to be on the final...and remember, you don’t have to write the rules on the final. You won’t have time.”

Acting as though he had plenty of time left with them, Mr. Hurley launched into a few stories of his youth—about playing basketball in college, a fictitious war story, and about how he got the horrible scar on his arm.

How did he get the scar on his arm? After thirty-seven years on the job, he left his students guessing.