Part Two of the Ingenious Teacher Don Neibauer of Aurora
Want to start at the beginning? Read Part One here.
Chapter I
Which tells of the first sally that I, the ingenious Don Neibauer, made in search of a typewriter for my classroom.
Mimicking my favorite character from literature, Don Quixote, I set out last week in search of a durable and affordable typewriter for my classroom. I have a vision for what I want this to look like in my classroom: a corner where students learn how to use a this machine by typing out favorite poems. I want to hear those mechanical clicks and musical dings filling my classroom. I can’t wait to see their reaction!
I do not mean to say that this is a complete adventure, but rather the start of one; this is the way adventures begin.
Don Quixote of La Mancha
The Adventure Begins
During the summer, our suburban neighborhood hosts various garage sales. It can be a bit overwhelming when an entire neighborhood has their wares out on display. It takes time to visit each driveway and browse through piles of stuff. I did some preliminary research, care of
and his Substack . I may not have “evils to undo, wrongs to right, injustices to correct, abuses to ameliorate, and offenses to rectify”, but I do have a typewriter to find and a gallant focus to revive the art of mechanical typing in my classroom. So, last week, I set out!In my first sally, I drove around our neighborhood, stopping every so often to see what my neighbors had to sell. I was disappointed with the selection. There was a lot of furniture, tables and chairs, and boxes of children’s clothing. Sometimes, I got lucky and found a box of elementary-aged books that I can add to our classroom library, but I had no luck finding a typewriter. At one house, I met a lovely man who makes charcuterie boards out of his garage. He had a huge selection of boards for sale. I can’t imagine that there is much demand for slabs of wood used to display cold meats and cheeses for living room parties. He was quite proud of his craftsmanship and I was almost tempted to spend what little cash I had in my pocket to support his hobby.
Unfortunately, there were not many houses participating in our neighborhood garage sale weekend. I considered driving further away, to see if other nearby neighborhoods were holding their own sales, but an afternoon thunderstorm forced everyone indoors, and returned home, empty-handed, Googling why charcuterie boards are so popular.
In my eagerness, I know that I will be tempted to purchase the first typewriter I see. I want to make sure that I find a machine that works and is durable (my fifth graders tend to be rough with their supplies). I expect to replace the ink ribbon, but I am hopeful that I can find a typewriter that doesn’t require much maintenance. I want to place it in my classroom and be ready to go for the first day of school.
Chapter II
Regarding the second sally of our good teacher Don Neibauer, along with other events worthy of joyful remembrance
After a disappointing first outing, the following day, I redoubled my efforts online. I logged into my OfferUp account, searched typewriters, and scrolled through dozens of typewriters for sale. Once I narrowed down my search to within 30 miles of my house, and looked to see what was available nearby. Unfortunately, my teacher’s budget prevented me from entertaining some really beautiful antique machines. The average price range on OfferUp was between $50-400, and with any online used purchase, there is no guarantee that what you are buying actually works.
Nevertheless, I kept searching until I found a 1960 Remington Standard Typewriter listed for $25 and advertised in good condition. It was posted months ago, and the pictures indicated that it seemed to be in good working order, albeit a bit dirty.
I made a plan to meet the seller in the following afternoon. My teenage son, needing driving hours for his license, offered to drive me to the seller’s house. If you’ve ever bought or sold anything online, most people agree to meet in a central and public location. I hesitated for a moment when he asked to meet in person, but this Remington was the only machine in my price range, and it was located close to my house. I decided to take a chance and meet him at his home.
When we arrived, my son stayed in the car while I rang the doorbell. A gentleman in his mid-50s, wearing a faded ballcap and stretched-out undershirt, answered the door wearing shorts and sandals. We introduced ourselves and he invited me in. The house was stuffy and crowded with the signs of retired bachelor living: newspapers and magazines stacked knee-high, an overstocked liquor cabinet in the living room, and unopened mail on the kitchen counter. The Remington was sitting on his kitchen table. I examined the machine and pressed keys to see if they stuck. We chatted.
Mark1, a retired high school teacher from an urban school district adjacent to my own, taught for 30 years before retiring. Since I just finished my 21st year in the classroom, we lamented over how difficult of a time it’s been these last few years. We discussed retirement, pensions, and substitute teaching, which many retired teachers find as a viable form of supplemental income after they leave the classroom. I kept fiddling with the typewriter, but to be honest, I didn’t really know what I was looking for. As long as chunks of metal didn’t fall off the machine, I wanted to take it home.
Mark told me that the typewriter once belonged to his mother, who purchased it in Miami. Could this machine really be 60 years old? He asked me what I planned to do with the typewriter. I excitedly launched into my idea of setting up a typewriter station for my students; wanting them to disconnect from WiFi, and reconnect with the mechanical feeling of putting their thoughts on paper. No voice-to-text. I want them to practice punching thought-to-keys. I especially want to hear those familiar sounds from my childhood. I want to hear students thinking on a typewriter.
At some point, the Remington blurred to the background. Mark and I sat down and talked for 40 minutes. I learned about his life as a public educator, including how hard he worked for the teachers’ union as part of the salary negotiating team. I shared some innocuous stories of my own teenagers; Mark countered with stories of his now-adult children. I could tell that Mark lived alone, and enjoyed the company. I enjoyed our conversation; teachers never run out of things to talk about!
When there was a lull in our chat, I pulled out my wallet.
Stop right there, young man. There’s no need for that.
I protested. I came all this way and fully intended to pay for the typewriter.
Look. You’re a teacher. I want you to have this machine. For your classroom.
I didn’t know how to respond. I was grateful and a bit shocked. Obviously, Mark was selling his mother’s Remington because he needed the money. I felt strange taking this familial object from his home without giving something in return. I asked him if he still planned to sub in the fall. Perhaps I could call on him as a guest teacher?
Mark gave me his full name and phone number. I promised to look him up in our substitute teaching database in August. He carried his mother’s 1960’s Remington out to my car and we stood chatting for a bit longer. Mark was planning to go meet a couple of fellow teacher retirees for drinks. In the mid-afternoon summer heat, I could feel the particles of an invitation begin to form, but I had already taken up much of his time, and his mother’s beloved typewriter. I got in my car and we drove away.
As I recounted this story to my teenage son, we laughed. What an incredible and serendipitous moment! What are the chances that I would meet a male teacher who was selling a typewriter? Mark’s kindness sat with me all the ride home. Too often, we mistrust each other. We are fearful of speaking with strangers. Sure, I brought a lot of privilege with me on this adventure. I’m a middle-aged, white male who has no issues entering a stranger’s home. However, I can’t help but wonder if my quixotic belief, that all humans are essentially good, allowed for this adventure to conclude happily.
In hindsight, I learned relatively little about Mark during out chat. He could be divorced and estranged from his family because he beat his wife and children. He could be a card-carrying member of the KKK. Mark could have a past that I disagree with or holds believes that I don’t support. However, in that moment, I chose to look upon Mark and think, you are a part of me I do not yet know. I took in his story and he gifted me a 60-year-old typewriter in return. I hope to pay his favor forward somehow.
Mark gave me more than his mother’s typewriter. He renewed my sense in humanity.
It is harder to wonder about people who seem like strangers or outsiders. But when we choose to wonder about people we don’t know, when we imagine their lives and listen for their stories, we begin to expand the circle of who we see as part of us.
Valarie Kaur
Resources
James Cook, whose pictures are above, is an incredible artist who has produced more than 300 typewritten drawings. Check out his stunning artwork below.
Jared Berezin brought in his 1918 Royal typewriter for his first-year undergraduate students and created a kinesthetic learning experience.
In April, I read See No Stranger: A Memoir and Manifesto of Revolutionary Love by Valarie Kaur. It is an incredible book, one that is renewing my faith in humanity.
Not his real name.
I began laughing out loud when I read, "Mark and I sat down."
My kids are fully used to me "getting my Midwest on" here in New England while they (like your son) wait at a safe remove.
But ahh, the unexpected moments, the serendipitous exchanges--- these are what give me joy, and it's also the stuff that fuels good stories.
I love everything about this post. And I'm so glad you found a typewriter. I can't wait to hear about your students' interactions with it.
I loved this story. Just discovered your blog this afternoon and I suspect to read a lot more of it thsi Summer, while contemplating a teturn to teaching. thanks so much for your heartfull writing!