WordWacky

In middle school we had a sub named Mr. Gliner. He was no ordinary sub. Usually they were nervous and controlling, sometimes angry, too. Mr. Gliner had a disturbingly giddy manner that made him oblivious to all but the worst behavior. Behind his layered glasses, his eyes were tiny blue peas. Mr. Gliner was also missing a couple of fingers on each hand, and he was built lopsided, so that one pant leg dragged under his foot, torn and stringy.

All we ever did with Mr. Gliner were logic and math problems — no matter whom he was replacing — which he handed out at the beginning of class from a stack of papers he plucked from his briefcase. I always believed he paid for those copies himself.

A recent story has surfaced from Pasco County, FL about a far less bizarre substitute teacher, Jim Picula.

Picula was fired for “wizardry.”

[Editor's note: I will do my best to avoid the magical metaphors that have plagued reporting on this story, but I admit they're tempting.]

If you haven’t heard what prompted the accusation, it was an amateur magic trick in which he made a toothpick disappear. Responding to the accusation, Picula said, “It’s not black magic; it’s a toothpick.”

While it’s strange that a substitute was fired for such a mild mannered trick — subs must be in short supply, judging by how much work Mr. Gliner got — it’s the word choice that makes this not just unfortunate, but unbelievable.

Thanks to the Potter books, the word wizardry has enjoyed a healthy resurgence. So it’s no wonder it came out of his boss’s mouth so easily, just slid right out like a sword loosed from a stone. [Ed: Oops]

According to the Online Etymology Dictionary, wizardry comes from Middle English, wys, or wise. Back then all knowledge was magic, since modern knowledge had barely begun. Whether you could count your livestock at a glance or you wore a pointy purple hat with stars and moons, you were a wizard.

In my life I’ve always regarded the word wizard as a positive description. It’s often used to describe someone who’s an expert in his or her field, and it’s likely the origin of whiz. The most famous wizard of my youth was the Wizard of Oz, and though he turned out to be less than we all imagined, he was still a pretty smart guy.

So why would wizardry be a job ending offense? The implication is that the teacher was involved in *gasp* witchcraft.

As far as I know, witchcraft hasn’t been outlawed in a good long time. Nor are toothpick disappearances all that impressive, whether by magic or by its more mystical cousin, magick.

Except maybe to a ten year old who stayed up too late the night before reading The Series.

Great Wizard Picula, Sage Gliner, please cast your magic and save us all from the HR decisions of ten-year-olds.

This entry was posted on Wednesday, May 7th, 2008 at 11:42 pm and is filed under news, words. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.