Dedicated/Early Riser

The school years passed, and eventually I found myself in college. I had pretty much held myself to the same standard throughout college. In fact, I probably had regressed into an even lazier version of my former self. Of course my biology classes were part of this reason. I rarely had the need to even write the notes down. They simply felt like someone was filling me in on a story that I had read many times before. The one class that I was forced to work hardest in was Calculus III. I had the Mr. Coate of mathematics that year.

Part of my love for mathematics is that it is algorithmic. If you learn to develop and follow the processes, then you were normally successful. Dr. Shilgalis understood this, but he wanted more from us. Every test consisted of nothing but applications and word problems. He wanted us to develop creativity in our applications of those algorithms. I italicized the word forced in the last paragraph on purpose. Mr. Coate had this effect on all of us as well.

Biology was the preparation for his upper level classes. You were forced to learn a great deal of material. When you got to Anatomy, you were no longer just memorizing material. You were now going to apply this material. Many of my fellow classmates were struggling with Calc III. More importantly, they were struggling with a teacher who demanded more than what was presented in class. I know for a fact that it was my four-years with a relentless taskmaster that allowed me to succeed in that class.

On a side note, I had noticed many similarities between Mr. Coate and Dr. Shilgalis throughout the semester. For instance one day in class we were waiting for Dr. Shilgalis. He normally came into the room about five minutes before class was to start. On this particular day, he was late by his standards. A secretary then entered the room and informed us that Dr. Shilgalis would be ten minutes late and that we were to wait for him in the
room. When he finally walked in, his face was covered with two patches of bloody gauze. One of my classmates asked what had happened. He told us the doctor got a little crazy removing some skin cancer. Of course we were all taken aback, but after the initial shock subsided, I realized that I was actually not surprised at all. I had spent four years with Mr. Coate. Such dedication was actually commonplace.

As the time passed, my arrogance began to be replaced by maturity. I was no longer satisfied with simply getting by in my classes. My senior year of college required me to complete student teaching. I then began my career as a mathematics teacher. Each year has been difficult and each year I try to make myself a better teacher (maybe my expectations of a teacher are too high, but I cannot imagine why that would be). I can no longer use my talents alone to get by. I have come to learn that it is only our effort that maintains us. Oh, and that getting in around 6:00 in the morning as a teacher is not as crazy as I once thought it was. There is a certain amount of peace that is obliterated when the children get there. Maybe I should try lecturing with my eyes closed. It always seemed to work for Mr. Coate.

I've graphed Mr. Coate's final lesson on this page.

Success, satisfaction, and effort are all related.

Ross Moyer

Caring

I remember talking with a fellow student in high school one day when he brought to my attention the sign on Mr. Coate's wall that contained the phrase "if you do not care." It was a long-running joke for some of us that Mr. Coate's lower-case r looked awfully similar to a lower-case v. So this student thought that the sign had instead read, "if you do not cave."I had also been a victim of this during the insect test that he gave everyone in Biology and Zoology. Is it ovipositor or oripositor? If that is a question on the test, I will just make my v indistinguishable from r as well. At the time this was all just a very funny misunderstanding, but in the years since has become something that has stuck with me.

I had probably read that sign on the wall every day at least one time in class. Even with such repetition, the only part that that still sticks with me is the last line: "if you do not care." The biggest lesson that I ever learned in Mr. Coate's class is that it was my effort, character, and desire that would ultimately lead to my success in life.

His tests were difficult. The amount of material that we were required to assimilate seemed infinite at times, but I learned that it was possible aslong as I cared enough to make the effort to succeed. It has taken me many years to learn this. As a young man, I thought my natural talents would guarantee my success. In fact, many times I challenged myself with seeing how little work I could put into my preparation versus how well I performed. At the time, I thought it was arrogance; I now understand it was a personal fear of failure. How does one reconcile to himself that he made his strongest effort possible, yet still came up short of his goals?

I would often make fun of my peers that would spend every evening studying over the material. The people who spent months studying for their lab practical were a favorite target of mine. Sure, they got an A while I only got a B. My secret was that I had only spent one week preparing for it. In fact, Mr. Coate had to kick me out of his room on the Friday before the test, because I was still cramming, but he had to spend countless hours that
weekend preparing for that test, like he had for countless students in previous years.

As with many students, I eventually settled into a comfortable level of effort vs. success as modeled by the graph above

(continued)

Twinkly/Inspiring the Impossible

From: j-bock@northwestern.edu
Subject: Re: Looking for Ralph Coate Stories!
Date: January 14, 2007 10:11:36 PM CST

When I think of Mr. Coate, I think of the first time I walked into his class. My first impressions were of a dim yellow room- the walls covered in faded posters, every surface not a desk covered with specimen jars and various biological paraphenalia. The smell... the smell was unique, to say the least. Old paper and plants and specimen jars mixing to produce a slightly alien scent... later on in the year, they'd be joined by the rank smell of bacteria in the incubator or the sharp tang of formaldehyde left over after a dissection, and always on test days just a hint of fear-sweat, but for now there were only the three.

And as we filed in, we stopped talking. There was something about the room that told you that you were going to be silent now. We found our seats. There were a few whispers, but nothing much.

And then there was the old man himself walking in. You never saw a twinkle in his eye. He might make a joke every once in a while, whenever the tension grew too much to bear, but he was not here to be our friend. He was here to be our teacher. If we would respect him for it, so much the better, but his overriding priority was to come hell or high water make certain that we left his class every day knowing more than when we came in.

A few of us were eventually privileged to see that he did fit the stereotype of the crusty old man with a heart of gold, yes, but oh, the layers of crust one had to endure to get there. Intellectually, we all knew he had a soul, but it was always a bit of a surprise whenever it showed up.

You know a Coate student by two signs. One is that when pushed, they will rise to the challenge- if nothing else, Mr. Coate taught us that we were capable of things we would normally think impossible. The second is that when pushed, and when those around them are whining about how what they are being asked to do is inhuman, they can always think back to the brain test. Or the Zoo lab practical. Or the countless Anatomy practicals.

And suddenly, whatever problem is facing them? At least it wasn't picking up a test that had only one question, "Tell me about the brain" and the horrible attendant knowledge that whoever told him the most would be the mark by which the rest of us were measured.

- Jim Bock

Phenomenal

From: suzieqtip83@hotmail.com
Subject: Mr.Coate
Date: March 12, 2007 8:12:05 PM CDT
To: vbock@vcbconsulting.com

Mr. Coate in a Nutshell

I had the privilege of being in Mr. Coate's classes for four years. When I started out my freshmen year in Biology, my only goal was to survive the daily quizzes and not be locked out of the classroom from not beating the tardy bell. My sophmore year in Zoology, my heart's desire was to have a giant "A" written on my tests in magic marker. And I can still point out a catalpa tree from putting together our tree books. My junior year in Microbiology, I was grossed out to find all the tiny microscopic organisms that lived in Mark Hocker's borrow pit. My senior year in Anatomy, I, along with my classmates, worked hard to be prepared for our lab practical. In addition, my ability to concentrate despite noisy distractions is a direct result of Mr. Coate purposefully and loudly cleaning the overhead while we took our tests.

Mr. Coate is a phenomenal teacher who has touched so many young minds. He inspired us to soak up knowledge, not only to be well-rounded in the Sciences but also to be better prepared for life. My college science courses were a breeze because Mr. Coate worked so diligently to impart the material to us in high school.

My only hope is that I will one day be half as good a teacher as he is. (I'd even settle for a fourth as good!) I wish him the best in retirement and wish that I could better put into words the profound effect he has had upon me.

-Susannah (Cutler) Moyer
Class of 2001
Teacher of deaf/hh students
at Urbana Middle School

Track Coach

From: Barry.Jacobs@NCMC.com
Subject: Ralph Coate
Date: February 22, 2007 1:09:39 PM CST
To: vbock@vcbconsulting.com

I am a 1980 graduate of Macon High School and a 3 year member of Mr. Coate's track team. Many people are not aware of his contribution to MHS through the Track and Field Program. During the 70's, Macon was a track and field powerhouse.

If I had to name one thing that Mr. Coate taught me more than anything else, it would be personal responsibility. During my years on the track team, I was a distance runner, and the normal practice for us was for Mr. Coate to take us about 4-5 miles south of Macon on the country road in the old, school station (wood) wagon. He would usually drive about 5 miles, then turn around and drive a mile or 2 back, he always kept us wondering how far we were going to run. He would stop the car, and we would gather around the driver's side window and he would look at us over his glasses, with the stopwatch in hand, and say "Hurry back boys"!! I can still picture it today. We would run back to the school and he would be out on the track somewhere working with the field events and we had to run to him and he would stop the watch. He never raised his voice, and in fact was very soft spoken but had a way of motivating that is hard to describe!!

Probably the most profound statement I remember him saying to me was, " When you step up to the starting line for the mile and 2 mile run and look across at your competitors you have to know in your mind that you have trained harder than they have" He wanted us to be responsible for our own success, and he would never take any credit for anything we did. He would allow us to slack off at practice, not say a word, and then when someone lost at the track meet, he would remind us of our practice habits. It worked every time!! Ralph Coate is a great man and I hope he knows how much his former students appreciate his contributions to MHS.
Barry Jacobs


Barry Jacobs
Loan Officer
National City Mortgage, a division of National City Bank
2965 N Water St.
Decatur, Illinois 62526

barry.jacobs@ncmc.com

Passionate

From: cabrown4@uiuc.edu
Subject: Mr. Coate Memory
Date: January 17, 2007 4:39:59 PM CST



I remember one of the first days of freshmen biology class when someone sneezed, and another person said, "Bless you." Mr. Coate got this strange look on his face, as he often did with freshmen, and said something to the extent of, "We don't need to say "bless you" in this classroom. Let's all do one big "bless you" for the rest of the year." I didn’t think he could be any more intimidating than he already was, but at that point I realized I was wrong. As I continued on with some of his other classes in the following years, however, I realized he was using intimidation to "weed out" the students who were not willing to put forth the effort to learn about science.

I think Mr. Coate's main goal was to give us students the knowledge needed to better understand the world that we live in and show us the possibilities that science presents. He wanted us to succeed both inside and outside of the classroom, and he challenged us to reach our full potential. Throughout my high school career and still to this day, I would argue that Mr. Coate knows everything that has anything to do with science. Whenever I come across something scientifically confusing, I always think to myself, "If only Mr. Coate was here." Mr. Coate was extremely passionate about teaching science, and I think that is what made him such a wonderful and memorable teacher. I am lucky to have had the opportunity to learn from such a knowledgeable and caring person. Thank you, Mr. Coate.

Chad Brown

Softball Fan

From: elindamood@mail.millikin.edu
Subject: Mr. Coate memory
Date: January 15, 2007 4:06:01 PM CST


Every home softball game Mr. Coate was there supporting us. We could always find him with two bags of popcorn standing at the fence by right field.

Erica Lindamood