Recollection

When I was six years old I had a really awful teacher. I can picture her now. Beehive hair. Pointy tipped spectacles. Gold metal belt with a scalloped design that looked like fish scales (I think she even had a watch that matched it). I could never tear my eyes away from that godawful belt. She stalked around our first grade classroom with a long, thin, wooden stick in hand. She pointed at everything with that stick…it was like an extension of her arm, and she would BANG!!! on your desk with it, if you had the temerity to give her a wrong answer. I was so scared of her, nothing she taught me made any sense. I’ll never forget how I struggled to understand number lines…number lines! That whole hopping thing made my head reel. Indeed that entire year was shot…no learning whatsoever, but she succeeded in imprinting herself on my memory for a lifetime. I remember her vividly to this day, and I’m in my fifties!

Then came second grade. I braced myself for another teacher from hell, but oh was I in for a surprise. This lady was the exact antithesis of the other one; kind, soft-spoken, understanding…amazing! I went from being a total dunce to a super star…the light bulbs kept clicking in my little mind.

I will always remember Mrs. A. Because of her I learned at a very young age the difference a teacher can make in a student’s life. I learned that a student’s learning can wax or wane in direct proportion to how a teacher makes them feel about themselves. Although I believe strongly that the seed of teaching was planted way back then, I never thought about becoming a teacher throughout my youth and early adulthood. I was headed for a career as a lawyer, and had actually enrolled to begin law school. Then I walked into my daughter’s first grade classroom, and it all came back to me with a bang. I remembered then, why I had to be a teacher.