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Teacher Appreciation Week

This week has been teacher appreciation week. I've noticed a sad thing, one of which I am guilty too. The only people mentioning this seem to be teachers. Is it because almost every teacher has been whining about the testing recently? Probably, but that doesn't change their importance and their impact, both good and bad, on who we become. I won't get into politics, but one thing that has struck me from private conversations lately, is just how few teachers made an impact on my generation, compared to how much they made on those older than me. The impact on those younger people I know seems almost non-existent. This is something teachers must look into the mirror and face, but again, not my point.

In my life I've had very few teachers who really taught me anything usable in later life. I learned compassion, empathy, reading, writing and arithmetic from my parents. I learned all the little things from others, but very little from actual teachers. I missed my first grade teachers, Mrs. Landau when she grew ill and I enjoyed my 4th grade history teacher, Bob Swacker, his burly beard and tiny glasses made him almost a caricature of a real man. I had others who I liked, but I never had a teacher who made me understand what learning felt like until 6th grade. Ruth Chapman taught me to push myself. She didn't force anything upon us, but she gave us a constant barrage of things to read and write about and what strikes me all these years later was how she taught us criticism. She genuinely wanted us to not only understand what we had read, but to know what we would have done differently. She never handed us our required reading with a preface of "this is a classic," but let us decide what was and wasn't. Off the top of my head, these were the titles we read in 6th grade.

Of Mice and Men
Animal Farm
Catcher in the Rye
Richard III
Midsummer Night's Dream
To Kill A Mockingbird
The Pearl
The Big Wave
Count of Monte Cristo

There were others that escape me now, but that was my 6th grade reading list. I didn't read books of that level for the following six years of school, with possibly the exception of some Shakespeare. Ruth Chapman taught me how to read and then write. To write based on things I had felt, not simply what I had read and because of it, I've become a decent writer myself (so I'm told).

The next teacher I appreciated was as a Freshman in High School. I am blanking on his name, but he was my chorus teacher. In my school, a semester of music was required and I was told to take chorus. I was terrified, because, being a year younger, I had not had that change of voice yet. I entered the class terrified and when he did the voice test, I was the only Alto in the class. I was on the verge of tears. I was shaking and he grabbed my shoulder and said "You can sit with the boys and fake singing or you can sit with the girls and participate, but we need you...you're our only Alto." In one instance he took me weakness and turned it into a positive. I realize now he was only saying it to get me to calm down, but it not only worked, but after out first recital, I was complimented on my voice being heard. I still to this day don't believe that was a good thing for people's ears, but it made me feel empowered. Oh yeah, I took the class a second time and I got to sit next to the girls every day.

My next great teacher came in college. Mr. Ferguson. A religion teacher, who had left his parish after a moment of doubt and then devoted his life to us. He taught me more about religion in two classes than I'd ever learned before and he is the reason I minored in it. He opened up thoughts and ideas that I'd never pondered and he made reading books such as The Bible and The Qu'ran fascinating. He added history and judgement to his lessons and allowed for others to add their experiences, but he did something that you'd never get if you went to Sunday school. He told you if you were wrong. He explained what is taught in church and what is taught in the Bible are two different things and he explained how all religious publications were to stir thought, but also meant to confuse. To give people enough to question their deeds. In layman's terms, to govern. In his classes, he allowed for great debates and people left angry, sometimes before class had ended and he appreciated their rage. Nobody took it personally....OK, one person did, but not bad. He taught me that understanding why people believe the unbelievable goes back to the beginning and it's made me fascinated ever since.

I've had three, maybe for others who had lesser impact on me and I have literally dozens who have had a negative impact on me, but I want those three teachers to understand how much they helped shape who I am today. Apples for all of them!


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