My favorite teacher
Ever since I started writing this blog, I've used stories of my past life as ways to help people that may be going through something similar or are struggling in figuring out how to handle a problem.
Last night I asked one of my best friends what he thought of my blog. He said that it's good but it's mostly negative. While this is true, it is also unfortunate. A lot of negative things happened to me in order for me to learn these lessons in life. However, I decided to try and think of a positive story to tell. So far, this is what I've come up with:
This is the story of my favorite teacher in the entire world. He was my English teacher for my freshman and senior year. He was one of the most amazing people I had ever met.
Teachers like him are hard to come by. At my high school a lot of teachers weren't very enthusiastic with the subjects they taught. I found myself unable to really do well in classes where teachers just droned on. If someone had a question, there would a roll of the eyes and/or a heavy laden sigh.
Then there was my English teacher. He was actually hired as a substitute teacher because our actual English teacher got into a nasty car accident. He was only supposed to be a sub for a month. A month turned into three, and then three turned into the rest of the school year. I first started out DESPISING him. I thought he was annoying. A week went by, and I didn't want him to leave. Of course I would get my wish, but never mind that.
He was so passionate about English literature. He bounced around the room as we talked about Shakespeare. He excitedly rambled about Odysseus and Homer. He explained the touching story of Helen Keller in The Miracle Worker. I grew to absolutely adore him. Other students were turned off by his enthusiasm over what he taught.
The world proved to be quite small during parent/teacher conferences. My parents went to his table and he spent the majority of it talking about how good of a student I am, and how I was just as passionate about learning things. Especially when it came down to Shakespeare (what can I say? I am my father's daughter.). But while my English teacher would be talking to my parents he and my dad kept eyeing each other. For the rest of the conference, he and my dad were trying to figure out where it was they had seen each other. As it turned out, they went to high school together. My dad graduated a year before him.
While my dad and my teacher weren't really friends, it established a bit of a closeness between my teacher and I. Nothing inappropriate or anything, but he felt the need to protect me. Because English was my favorite subject and it was thrilling for me to be able to show off my love for it, I got picked on in that class a lot. One afternoon in particular, a student was picking on me so hard that I began to cry. Not openly sobbing, but I had to choke back tears. He noticed this and stopped his lesson to yell at the entire class. He said he would not tolerate such disrespect toward anybody. He was furious. No one ever picked on me again (although I'm sure a ton of shit got talked about behind my back)
I was beyond thrilled when he stayed for the remainder of my high school years. I don't really think he was that thrilled about it since he had technically retired. But he always had his door open for me (and other students as well) even if I wasn't a student of his at the time.
I was SO happy that he was my teacher for my senior year. At that point, he had been teaching at the high school for 4 years. He didn't really care anymore and he was getting fed up with our administration and the way they planned the senior year curricula. We walked in to his class to go over the syllabus. He held up the administration's syllabus and then ripped it in half.
"The school administration, for the 4th quarter, want you to do your research paper, your persuasive essay, AND your persuasive speech at the same time. That's not going to happen, you'd all kill yourselves. So, here's what we're going to do--" and then he gave us his own revised syllabus.
That said, it was no easy year for us. He was quite strict and demanding with us. If students didn't hate him then, they hated him now. Even students that once loved him were showing an obvious disdain for him. But I knew why he was so strict with us. He was trying to make us better students. He was trying to show us that after high school, it wouldn't be any better. He had us write a lot of papers since that's what college would be all about. He pushed us. He pushed us hard but it was for the absolute best. He wasn't doing it to be an asshole. He did it because he cared. He did it because he wanted us to succeed.
Although he didn't go easy on us, he was still the same English teacher. He was the same man that would excitedly talk about Shakespeare so much that he would spittle. He was the same man whose eyes would light up every time a student answered a question correctly. Hell, his eyes would light up if a student ASKED a question.
And here's where my "lesson" comes in. First of all, I think we all need to have that one teacher. We need to have that one teacher that inspires us to do better. That one teacher whose enthusiasm rubs off on us. Those types of teachers should never be taken advantage of. Not only are they really and truly teaching us, but they are enjoying what they teach! I've always found that a teacher that enjoys doing what they do makes someone pay attention a lot more than a teacher who drones on in such a monotonous tone that even Ben Stein himself would fall asleep. The type of teacher that cares about the kind of student you end up being after you go beyond high school.
If you have a teacher like that, whether it's science, math, English, or history, take advantage of that kind of teacher. Befriend that type of teacher. Don't be afraid of being called a teacher's pet, or a kiss ass or whatever those jerks may say. Teachers like that are really one in a million. I miss my English teacher more than anything in the world, especially now that he's retired for good. If you have a teacher like that, that cares as much as they do, never refuse help from them. Ever.
With love,
Liv
Song in title: "Heroes" - David Cook
No comments:
Post a Comment