"Egret Reflections" 11x14 oil on canvas SOLD, Prints available |
I come from a long line of teachers, and take pride in having five teachers in our family today. I revere teachers and respect their profession. As the mother of six children, I had a lion's share of parent-teacher conferences and PTA meetings. Over the years, I've seen good teachers and bad teachers.
Ms. Morrell was my English teacher; a stern spinster, and
the butt of jokes and complaints from her students. But without her, I may
never have become a writer. She knew her stuff! She was firm, but patient. She
insisted on good behavior and was a hard task master when it came to grammar. And
she could see past the jeers and bluster of her students.
"Great Egret Cleaning Beak" Drawing by Carol Allen Anfinsen |
She encouraged me to enter the school's literary contest
and I won. She saw in me what I couldn't see in myself. I remember her to this
day, not as the frumpy spinster with the stern look, but for what she taught
me: lessons that stayed with me throughout my life
Mr. Holmstead was my History teacher; a fun-loving man
who walked a shaky line between likability and control. Somehow he managed; not
because of classroom rules or rigid authoritarianism, but through his own
charisma and passion for his subject.
Whether you liked history or hated it, you were bound to
love how Mr. Holmstead told a story. He captured your attention and made
history seem relevant and wondrous. The test questions were easier to remember
because of the performance and the theatrics he tied to each fact. Those who
thought history was boring were in for a big surprise.
"Maestro" 9x12 Pastel on Bristol |
By noon, Mr. Holmstead already had a five o'clock shadow.
By the end of the day, his tie had been loosened, his jacket hung on a chair
and his sleeves were rolled up. We loved history because he loved history. His
teaching was infectious.
And then there are the not-so-great teachers. I met one
of them at a parent teacher conference. She was irritated by my energetic son.
"He fidgets too much at his desk," I was told.
"And why does he fidget," I asked? Turns out my
son finished his work before the other students and then he became a
distraction. He even turned over his paper and doodled on the back (imagine
that!) making his worksheet messy and dirty (the nerve).
By the time I finished listening, I knew there was
nothing I could say or do to change this teacher's mind. I did suggest that she
give my son another sheet of paper to doodle on while he waited, but she
refused, saying that she didn't have time to cater to one student. Oh the "mind
is a terrible thing to waste!" (Negro
College Fund Slogan)
Here is the flip side to that story. In my son's sixth
grade year, he had a teacher named Mrs. Bush. The children loved her, not because
she was lenient or friendly, but because they knew what to expect from her. Her
discipline was consistent; her style full of expectation and follow through.
My son was still the same wiggly, talkative child, but
she used that enthusiasm to their mutual advantage. When he sat fidgeting after
finishing his work, she showed him how to use the classroom camera. He took
pictures of designated materials under her supervision. And wouldn't you know,
the envious other children began to work harder to finish their work so that
they could use the camera
At one point, during their study of China, Mrs. Bush
showed him a tiny picture of a Chinese dragon and challenged him to see what he
could do with it. She gave him some brushes and paints and turned him loose on
the classroom window. By the end of the day, he had completed a giant, colorful
dragon; an exact replica of the original drawing.
That painting amazed not only me, but the entire school.
Mrs. Bush saw a glimmer in my son and harnessed his active mind and body; a
true modern-day miracle worker. Teachers like this never scream for recognition
or pay, but they deserve it. They simply do what they do best: teach children.
I say God bless them!
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