In my life I've had many kinds of teachers. Some kind and patient, some indifferent, some eccentric... They come in all shapes, sizes, and personalities.
I have fond memories of some teachers, but most of them are not-so-fond memories. My first grade teacher, Mrs. Anderson, had gotten in trouble a few years prior to me being in her class. You see, my older brother had been playing peek-a-boo with his friend during a test. She lost her cool and pulled his hair. She knew who I was right away and I could feel the dislike radiating from her when she looked at me. Try as I might I could not win her favor. I remember once telling her that a boy in my class had been using inappropriate and offensive language. Instead of talking to the boy, she lectured the class on tattle-telling.
Another first grade teacher was Mrs. Beers. I think I went to her class for Reading (and/or math). I was a perpetual daydreamer, so to bring my attention back to my tasks she would kick my desk with her clogs. To reward students for returning homework on time she offered a choice of Smartie candies or Dum Dum suckers. I had a terrible time remembering my homework. I remember one day I proudly brought it to her on time and she asked me weather I wanted a Smartie or a Dum Dum and when I chose a Dum Dum she had a smirk on her face and I was suddenly conscious of her meaning.
In second grade my teacher, Mrs. Stevens, was kind and patient. I was happy in her class, however for Reading class I went to Mr. Smith. The first thing Mr. Smith said to me upon reading my last name at roll call was, "Do you have bananas in your ears, like your brother?" I thought this was a funny comment, laughed and told him - no. Mr. Smith was a heavy-set man who liked to joke (often at some child's expense), and the kids liked him and thought he was very funny. Later that year he informed me, in front of the class, that I indeed had bananas in my ears.
As an adult I found out that my older brother used to go home crying, after being in Mr. Smith's class.
The next few years I found myself somewhat self conscious as I occasionally endured ridicule from other children. I have somewhat fond memories of the teachers, but my self esteem was waning.
By the time I was in fourth grade Mr. Smith had become a fourth grade teacher and I was in his math class. I remember especially struggling with reading that year, the letters would scramble in my head and I often came up with the wrong word. I had to slowly look at the order of each letter to figure out what the word said. I found out after graduating high school that I have a mild form of dyslexia. But I was a slow reader then and not particularly quick in other areas either. Mr. Smith teased me for talking slowly in front of the class, and when I asked to sharpen my pencil he would hum a slow, "dum-tee-dum" tune as I would walk to the pencil sharpener. The other kids thought this was very funny. He also did this to a few others in the class, I wasn't the only one, but when a teacher publicly humiliates a child it sets an example to the other students and they will follow. One of the boys I remember him also ridiculing was Nathan Brinkerhoff.
One good thing I remember happening to me that year was art. Mr Johnson (who was also my homeroom teacher) taught an art class which I excelled at. In fact, our principal was retiring that year and the teacher had a drawing contest to be the cover of our class gift to Mr. Shell, our principal. I won that contest.
By the time I was in fifth grade I was very quiet and kept to myself at school. Those that knew me in comfortable settings I was animated and funny, but at school I was inverted and stuck to drawing. I drew on my desk, my school papers, my jeans... My teacher at that time was Mrs. Whitney, who was over weight (but not by much compared to Mr. Smith) and tormented mostly by one particular student, who called her a cow on a daily basis and was sent to the principal's office. Mrs. Whitney's method of grading papers was to have fellow students grade them, then she would call out our names and we would tell her what our scores were. We had the option of walking up to her desk & whispering our scores if it was particularly bad. When she called my name I always had to repeat myself several times for her to hear me because I was so quiet. Finally I started just going to her desk to tell her my score and she would say, "That's not a bad score!" I just hated repeating myself. My feelings for her were neutral, but for whatever reason I would draw large women (resembling Mrs. Whitney) wearing bikinis on my desk, as well as cows. She would wash my desk after school and I would draw more pictures the next day. At parent teacher conference she praised my art skills to my mom, but asked that I please stop drawing on my desk. I felt terrible! I'm still not sure why I did that; a form of rebellion, hoping for acceptance from fellow students?
I had the opportunity of being in the oldest grade in the school for 2 years in a row, as the year I was going into 6th grade they moved it back to elementary school from Jr. high. All new teachers were hired for 6th grade. I was in Mrs. Gondor's class. She was a tall, willowy woman persistent in teaching methods and maybe a little eccentric. She fervently believed in gnomes, told us stories and did her best to convince us that gnomes truly existed. I didn't think that she really believed herself, I thought it was a fun ruse, being one who has always had a love for the fantastical. Later more and more students told me that it wasn't a ruse, she truly believed in gnomes! She was even preaching to one of my friend's parents about gnomes at a parent teacher conference!
Most beloved of all teachers in elementary school was Mr. Baliff. I could never find anything negative to say about Mr. Baliff! For the first time in my life, here was a teacher who would freely praise me in front of the class. I remember the bewildered looks on my classmates faces when he told them all that I was the only student in the whole class to get 100% on a particular quiz.
Around that time I took up the hobby of making mazes. I made them a lot! One day for extra credit he told the class that we could make a maze, and the good ones he would make copies of and let the class do them. I couldn't believe my luck! Mazes were my thing! I made the coolest maze, with trick turns and only one, really tricky way to make it to the end. Mr. Baliff stood at the front of the class a few days later and said that only one maze was really good enough to use, but it didn't have a name on it. He held up my maze and asked the class if anyone recognized it. I raised my hand, he smiled and handed copies out to all of my class mates. Some of them really struggled and asked me how to find the way to the end, but I shook my head and told them to keep looking. Man I was proud! Looking back I'm pretty sure he must have seen me drawing mazes to get the idea to do this.
I'm so grateful I finally had a teacher like Mr. Baliff!
None of my middle school teachers really stand out to me... It was a humdrum time of my life where I felt invisible for the most part but found a small group of good friends. I remember my art teacher being an odd lady, and I was angry at her for drawing on my pictures, trying to show me how it was done. But I loved art class regardless of my strange teacher.
Ninth grade was a sort of turning point for me socially, and what little interest I had in learning lost it's value. Teachers were of no consequence to me. I went to school to see my friends, oh and maybe go to art class.
My attitude didn't change once I entered high school and my grades suffered. I felt an indifference for my teachers and thought that they were indifferent to me as well. I had another eccentric art teacher (started to believe that it must be a requirement for art teachers to be a little off), and that was one class that I never missed, though I often skipped others.
When I was a junior in high school, my parents' concern for my grades increased and they sent me to a private school. I firmly believe that their choice of private schools was the cheapest one, hey we weren't rich! And I can't say the teachers there were any better. Indifferent, over worked, under paid, and a large percentage of students attending the school were misfits, sent by parents with good intentions. I had a blast, but I'm not so sure any teachers there had a love for me.
As I was preparing to start my senior year we discovered that, despite my attending summer school (every summer since 9th grade) to make up on so many failed classes, I was still short one credit to graduate with my class. So the decision was made that I would attend an alternative high school, where I could pick up an extra class and once I was caught up I could transfer back to my original high school. I don't think my counselor understood my intent. Every time I met with him I would tell him that I needed an extra class because I was short one credit. He assured me that I was fine and I didn't need an extra class.
The alternative high school was a completely different atmosphere than I had ever experienced. The students were on a first name basis with the teachers. Some of the teachers came outside between classes and smoked, socialized or played hacky-sack with the students.
I remember two times, different classes & different teachers, my grades started slipping and the teachers pulled me aside and let me know. They asked if I wanted to do make-up work to bring my grade back up. These teachers cared about me! Amazing!
Despite it's reputation, the school had a very strict attendance policy. If we missed a class 2 or 3 times we would get kicked out of the class and have to retake it later. Kids found with or on drugs got the boot! And if we were sick and couldn't make it to class we were expected to call the teacher and let him/her know. What a great way to teach kids who struggle with responsibility!
My biology teacher, Dave, was great! He would relate names of bones and muscles of the human body to things to help us remember. He was so funny (never at the expense of others, by the way), and everyone loved him! Another teacher, who's name was also Dave (haha), asked my friend and I what we were doing there. He thought we were way too smart to be at that school. I was a little offended by his remark. It wasn't a school for stupid people! It was for people who made mistakes in their past, and needed a second chance.
When second semester came around I had no desire to go back to my regular, public high school. My counselor informed me that I was short one credit (really? you don't say!), so I took work release on top of 8 classes.
And yes, I graduated with my class.
As a parent with these experiences I keep a hawk-eye on all of the teachers of my children. I like to think a lot has changed since I was in elementary school. I have never had complaints with any of the teachers of my children, though some seem to connect better with them. But all in all, I think no one should be a teacher if they have no intention of being a force of positive influence on every single child's life. We are all human and no one is perfect, but it should at the very least be their intent to strengthen and edify the young people they are in contact with. Isn't that why they wanted to be a teacher in the first place? To make a difference for the better?
