A social studies teacher who both my daughters had in high school died recently of cancer, and they were upset to hear about it because he had been one of their favorite teachers. It made me realize how many teachers I have forgotten about over the years. Except for the few that were either exceptionally good or horribly bad, I have no memory of most of my teachers. In my mind, most of them fall into a pile of nondescript faces and forgotten names.
I remember all the names of my elementary school teachers and I have a general idea of how I felt about each of them, but only two really stand out. My third grade teacher, Mrs. Joy, had such a convoluted way of teaching subtraction that she had me totally confused. She also sat me way at the back of the classroom, and at the time none of us realized that I needed glasses yet. I had always done well in school but that third-grade year was pretty much a disaster. The only good thing I remember about Mrs. Joy was that she introduced me to the Boxcar Children books! I went on to having Mrs. Hoyt in 4th grade, who was my most beloved grade school teacher. That was the year I spent a month in the hospital when I knelt down on a sewing needle and had to have it surgically removed from my knee. Mrs. Hoyt was sweet and encouraging, allowing me to take my time making up my school work, and she finally told me to forget about having to make it all up because I was already miles ahead of most of the other kids. I remember that I wrote a poem about her and gave it to her, I liked her so much.
Sadly, I only remember the bad teachers in junior high school. Mrs. Gingerich, the Latin teacher, was tough and intimidating for the most part. She had little unflattering nicknames for most of us and refused to call us by our real names. Leslie Edgar and I were both "the black haired girls." Hmmm. Mr. Shoebridge, the English teacher, was the one who handed out our report cards. He would read our grades out loud to the whole class and comment on them before handing over the card. I wonder how that would fly in today's classrooms? The worst at humiliation, however, was Mr. Wilcox, the science teacher. After each test he would have us all line up along the walls of the classroom. He'd call out the name of the person who had the lowest grade on the test, and they had to sit in the front row by the classroom door. On he'd go until the person who had the highest grade was sitting in the last row in the seat by the windows. Each and every time, the same girl, Kitty, would get the lowest grade. She was a quiet girl who would study hard, but she just didn't have what it took. Her face would turn bright red as she sat down in that first seat in utter embarrassment and shame. Even at the time, it made me angry and resentful to witness it. Now I can't believe that such a thing was allowed to happen over and over again.
In high school, the geometry teacher Mrs. Russell was a definite bright spot. It was the one math class I actually liked and did well in because of her attitude and the exceptional way she taught. I heard later that she died of cancer soon after I left high school; she would have been only middle-aged when she died. Such a sad waste of a great teacher. The rest of my high school teachers kind of fade into the woodwork except for the Spanish teacher, Mrs. Petrini. She had so little control over the classroom that I remember one day when some kids were dancing on top of the desks. She'd literally break down in tears in front of the classroom. Several times the principal came in and sat in the room, and of course everyone was quiet when he was there. I felt sorry for her but at the same time I wondered why she continued on when it was clear that she wasn't cut out to be a high school teacher!
Sadly, I don't remember one single college professor! I have vague recollections of one of my psychology professors who I asked to write a letter of recommendation for me when I was thinking of going to grad school. He was a young and enthusiastic professor and he wrote a very nice letter. But I can't even remember his name now!
How unfortunate it is that I have so few teachers in my life who made good and lasting impressions on me. I can only hope that my daughters were luckier in this area. I'll have to ask them!
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