George Walter remembered
By Theodore Beranis ’57
Lawrence Today magazine, Spring 2007
George Walter ’36 was principal at Washington Park High School, my alma
mater, before he was recruited by President Nathan Pusey to found the Department
of Education at
Lawrence to recruit and train liberal-arts majors for public-school teaching.
I remember well his fireside chats to the assembled 100 or so frosh guys of Brokaw
Hall. The theme of his most memorable speech was, for me, “Lawrence Touched
Me.” His face reddened and his eyes flashed, I recall, as he predicted
how Lawrence would “touch each of you.”
Then he smiled and segued into a hilarious riff on what romance lay ahead for
each of us. He delighted all the guys with his account of how each of us was
likely to “spot some pretty coed near Main Hall,” spending weeks
getting up the courage to speak to her, finally a date at the union, a walk across
campus...then...I can still “hear” the silence before he paused,
rolled his eyes, joined his arms into an embrace, and added “that...first...kiss.” We
all roared as he imitated the euphoria of our return to the dorm after that kiss.
I can still see that mop of blond hair, often falling over his forehead; the
athletic physique; his ham hands gesturing; sometimes wiping his face as he perspired
from the enthusiasm of his delivery. He had a terrific voice, and he could modulate
it masterfully for effect: soft now, rising, the crescendo of a shout. What an
actor!
He seemed to always wear grey flannel suits thrown over his square-shouldered,
hulking frame. And his shoes! Light deerskin, soft soles. Always. In winter,
he trudged to classes wearing a bulky, ankle-length overcoat and a dark fur Cossack
cap, wrapped in a wool scarf hanging below his waist.
What a schedule he followed, often driving his education students to Wisconsin
schools to view programs. Each year, he took a carload of us to the Wisconsin
teachers convention in Milwaukee. Ah, those samplings at the breweries!
Dean Walter touched all of us who later made public-school teaching our careers.
His commitment mattered, and his enthusiasm was contagious. I recall, somewhat
naively, thinking that a teaching career could be a marvelous adventure. Pure
George, I discovered, but not much off the mark, and I never regretted my career
choice.
A word or three about his education courses. First, he taught them all. The
titles changed, but they might as well have been numbered George I,
George II, Intermediate
George, and Advanced George. As I recall, almost ironically, he did little
teaching, as such. Compared to most other profs, he was an educational
huckster, whose
goal seemed not to teach us how to teach but to light the fire of commitment
to teaching.
Criticism arose here and there that his courses were lightweight. So? When
it came to inspiring nascent teachers into that career, as Pusey had charged
him
to do, he was a heavyweight.
Fifteen years after I left Lawrence, while a graduate assistant in the Northern
Illinois University doctoral program, I caught up with Dean Walter when he
highlighted a conference in DeKalb. I had a great time dining with him and
seeing him “work
the table” of professors. What a salesman he was for liberal education
and public teaching.
He was a star on the teacher-conference circuit, appearing all over the Midwest
and nationally. I never heard him, whatever the group or topic, fail to include
his classic reading of “Casey at the Bat,” which always brought
forth a standing ovation.