Wonderful column! If heaven has audio, I'd like to give a shout out to my grade one teacher, the beautiful Miss Mellon who always wore a cluster of artificial violets pinned to her nylon blouse. Without her patient encouragement, school would have been torture for this immigrant six year-old who spoke not a word of English. With no ESL classes in those days, is must have been tough dealing with this one little girl.) Thank-you, Miss Mellon with the long, shiny, fragrant brown hair.
Inspirational teachers, if you're lucky you've got em. In K-12 I had two. "Mizz" Nagem who taught me world history over three years from 6th through 8th grade and gave me a life-long love of history and the Greeks especially. And Martin Johnson, my junior year American Lit teacher... Thoreau and Emerson, Twain, Ellison... And off the beaten path hard-boiled detective novels like Raymond Chandler's The Long Goodbye, Ursula Le Guin's marvelous fantasy/sci-fi. "Mr. J" held court for any and all every lunch period where the nerds like me would flock--and fight--over the three antique movie theater seats in front of his desk to watch films, classics, modern sci-fi, cult classics... His favorite directors were Lynch, Kubrick and Capra. He also had a real flair for the dramatic, one day he showed up dressed as a 17th century New England preacher and recited Jonathan Edwards "Sinners Before and Angry God" during our chapter on Hawthorne's Scarlet Letter. He introduced us to Jazz greats like Coltrane and Davis, rock groups from before our time like Traffic, Zepplin, folk, punk, everything really. He really made every second count.
Wanted to comment earlier - my computer has been down. I can't believe you remember the names of our teachers! How did you make so much out the mundane school days? You were so bad and so thoughtful simultaneously.
THE NOTE though!!!!! That alone is worth THOUSANDS of $5 fees, in my humble opinion. I hope you have it in a gold frame on a wall somewhere so the Baroness can read it every time she haunts your house. ALL of these stories of what makes a great teacher are wonderful, Bob, and SO incredibly timely as the forces of evil once again try to turn our public schools into corporations. THANKS, Dear Bob, for writing THIS one especially!!! AND "for being a non-conformist in a mass of conformation." WOW.
As always, top draw writing and you shuffled those memories beautifully...
Like you, I'm blessed with the curse of remembering everything from childhood. I'll just mention Miss Bolton, my J4 (UK system) teacher, reading Rider Haggard's "King Solomon's Mines" aloud in her broad Yorkshire accent. Absolute colonial tosh but, at the time, (about 1960) I was spellbound.
I wish I could remember my school years as well as you. I remember I had a good teacher in first grade, but I do not remember her name. My 10th grade algebra teacher was great too, but I cannot remember her name either. I do remember my High School guidance Counsellor - Mrs. Long, who told me I should consider a career in the "trades" because boys like me didn't usually go to college. It may have just been because I was dating her daughter, but it was a statement that motivated me to prove her wrong at every turn.
Most of my formative learning took place in College - Freshman English I learned how to structure an essay from Celia Halford, who had more patience than I deserved. Bland Mathis in sophomore English with his penchant for teaching us Shakespeare, continued by Tony Redd in my junior and senior years. Rusty Stout using his great sense of humor to remind a Marine who was wound a little too tight that I was still just a college student who needed to get along with my peers. Tom Dion teaching us about equity and equality in sophomore surveying class - I still have his 13 Maxims of Equity and would share them with my Senator (Marsha B.) if I thought she could actually read and comprehend them. Colonel Myron Harrington (awarded the Navy Cross for his actions in Hue City) using his patient style of leadership to mold all of us into the leaders we became.
Wonderful story! I wish I could remember the name of the teacher who read us "Charlotte's Web" in second or third grade in upstate New York. I hear her lovely voice whenever I think of that book. She may have been my introduction to beautiful writing.
Thank you, Joyce. Yep. “She was in a class by herself. It is not often that someone comes along who is a true friend and a good writer. Charlotte was both."
For me there was Mrs. McElliott, or, as we knew her, Mrs. Maggelliott, 7th Grade math. Hair bright red, curled in random waves unconquerable with whatever amount of brushing and fragile after years of self-dyed abuse. The tobacco stains on three fingers of her right hand shining against the blackboard introduce us to integral calculus, the tangent to a curve, its slope a number that changes continuously if time marks the x-axis. "More of that when you get to high school," she said. And coughed, a deep, hardy cough. Decades later I remembered her lesson while reading about postmodernism. Another tangent.
Loved it just as much the second time. And I now have my own copy of Half Magic and LOVED reading it!! Bravo.
Wonderful column! If heaven has audio, I'd like to give a shout out to my grade one teacher, the beautiful Miss Mellon who always wore a cluster of artificial violets pinned to her nylon blouse. Without her patient encouragement, school would have been torture for this immigrant six year-old who spoke not a word of English. With no ESL classes in those days, is must have been tough dealing with this one little girl.) Thank-you, Miss Mellon with the long, shiny, fragrant brown hair.
Inspirational teachers, if you're lucky you've got em. In K-12 I had two. "Mizz" Nagem who taught me world history over three years from 6th through 8th grade and gave me a life-long love of history and the Greeks especially. And Martin Johnson, my junior year American Lit teacher... Thoreau and Emerson, Twain, Ellison... And off the beaten path hard-boiled detective novels like Raymond Chandler's The Long Goodbye, Ursula Le Guin's marvelous fantasy/sci-fi. "Mr. J" held court for any and all every lunch period where the nerds like me would flock--and fight--over the three antique movie theater seats in front of his desk to watch films, classics, modern sci-fi, cult classics... His favorite directors were Lynch, Kubrick and Capra. He also had a real flair for the dramatic, one day he showed up dressed as a 17th century New England preacher and recited Jonathan Edwards "Sinners Before and Angry God" during our chapter on Hawthorne's Scarlet Letter. He introduced us to Jazz greats like Coltrane and Davis, rock groups from before our time like Traffic, Zepplin, folk, punk, everything really. He really made every second count.
Wanted to comment earlier - my computer has been down. I can't believe you remember the names of our teachers! How did you make so much out the mundane school days? You were so bad and so thoughtful simultaneously.
it's pretty easy to remember their names - most of them still have restraining orders against me....
That was an awesome ending.
THE NOTE though!!!!! That alone is worth THOUSANDS of $5 fees, in my humble opinion. I hope you have it in a gold frame on a wall somewhere so the Baroness can read it every time she haunts your house. ALL of these stories of what makes a great teacher are wonderful, Bob, and SO incredibly timely as the forces of evil once again try to turn our public schools into corporations. THANKS, Dear Bob, for writing THIS one especially!!! AND "for being a non-conformist in a mass of conformation." WOW.
My pleasure, Sandy... Some of my best friends were once teachers....
As always, top draw writing and you shuffled those memories beautifully...
Like you, I'm blessed with the curse of remembering everything from childhood. I'll just mention Miss Bolton, my J4 (UK system) teacher, reading Rider Haggard's "King Solomon's Mines" aloud in her broad Yorkshire accent. Absolute colonial tosh but, at the time, (about 1960) I was spellbound.
jealous! I LOVED H. Rider!
Can anyone submit a story?
um, no, the 5 a.m. stories are all written by me, but anyone who subscribes may leave a comment...
I wish I could remember my school years as well as you. I remember I had a good teacher in first grade, but I do not remember her name. My 10th grade algebra teacher was great too, but I cannot remember her name either. I do remember my High School guidance Counsellor - Mrs. Long, who told me I should consider a career in the "trades" because boys like me didn't usually go to college. It may have just been because I was dating her daughter, but it was a statement that motivated me to prove her wrong at every turn.
Most of my formative learning took place in College - Freshman English I learned how to structure an essay from Celia Halford, who had more patience than I deserved. Bland Mathis in sophomore English with his penchant for teaching us Shakespeare, continued by Tony Redd in my junior and senior years. Rusty Stout using his great sense of humor to remind a Marine who was wound a little too tight that I was still just a college student who needed to get along with my peers. Tom Dion teaching us about equity and equality in sophomore surveying class - I still have his 13 Maxims of Equity and would share them with my Senator (Marsha B.) if I thought she could actually read and comprehend them. Colonel Myron Harrington (awarded the Navy Cross for his actions in Hue City) using his patient style of leadership to mold all of us into the leaders we became.
So, Dave, did you marry the daughter?
Not a chance!
Such an authentic collection of memories about formative teachers, very special, Bob, one of your best yet!
Thank you, Paul…
Wonderful story! I wish I could remember the name of the teacher who read us "Charlotte's Web" in second or third grade in upstate New York. I hear her lovely voice whenever I think of that book. She may have been my introduction to beautiful writing.
Thank you, Joyce. Yep. “She was in a class by herself. It is not often that someone comes along who is a true friend and a good writer. Charlotte was both."
For me there was Mrs. McElliott, or, as we knew her, Mrs. Maggelliott, 7th Grade math. Hair bright red, curled in random waves unconquerable with whatever amount of brushing and fragile after years of self-dyed abuse. The tobacco stains on three fingers of her right hand shining against the blackboard introduce us to integral calculus, the tangent to a curve, its slope a number that changes continuously if time marks the x-axis. "More of that when you get to high school," she said. And coughed, a deep, hardy cough. Decades later I remembered her lesson while reading about postmodernism. Another tangent.
Love this one. And, yes, as a colleague who shared an office with you, I can attest to the fact that your native language is sarcasm.
You seemed to be pretty fluent yourself, as I recall....
Dear Miss Kenefick,
I am still sorry I made you cry in your second grade class.
Beautiful. Will share with the teachers (and their parents) that I know.
Marvelous!
Thank you.