I remember my 5th grade teacher was the only male teacher I had in elementary school. He gave me my first "C" ever, and it was in handwriting. I was Crushed-- with a capital C. I loved my handwriting and had practiced for two years to make it as pretty as my mom's (though I never succeeded. Hers was just as pretty whether she was addressing Christmas cards or writing a grocery list. My handwriting to this day reflects my mood and pace. In a word: inconsistent.) Mr. P's handwriting was so-so. Not bad for a man, but then again, who wants to read flowery penmanship from a man? Ick. My mom advocated for a change in my grade, but he held firm. I think from then on I really didn't care what my handwriting looked like; I was going to be unfairly judged by it anyway.
My 6th grade teacher had five or six kids. I remember thinking she looked too old to be a mom. She had a 20 year old son named Kenny in college. (Oh, no! I have become her, minus one kid.) I couldn't fathom that someone had adult children. It made no sense to me. I remember her oldest son was a monarch butterfly specialist. He came and did a talk on monarchs. I've loved butterflies ever since--and grew up to marry a butterfly specialist!
Recalling your days of school, particularly your middle school years (5th-7th grade) what are some things your teacher(s) did that meant the most to you? What kindnesses or blessings do you remember? (These could include things like comforting you in a certain situation, understanding you, holding you accountable, giving you breaks, helping you study, encouraging your potential, repeating a great quote reguarly, being enthusiastic, not comparing you to others, giving you extra (or fewer) assignments in relation to your ability, complimenting you, inspiring you, correcting you, and all sorts of things. Any special moments you can't forget? By the same token, what are some things teachers did wrong by you? I am trying to learn from both the bad and the good I hear and have experienced myself.
5 comments:
One of my more powerful memories is of the nurse who didn't believe that my head hurt and I felt sick to my stomach and sent me back to class...and, consequently, of the student teacher who happened upon me while I was throwing up in the middle of the hallway. She took me into the staff bathroom - the closest reprieve, and a rare honor for a student - and helped me clean up, and then escorted me to the red-faced nurse. She believed me then. I wish I remembered the teacher's name.
I have very fond memories of an 8th grade social studies teacher who made history fun - we acted things out, and learned in a bit less traditional way. It was the only social studies class I ever liked. I don't remember a lot of strong dislikes in middle school...you'll get another comment if one comes back to me!
I think my favorite memories of middle school teachers were those who shared a little bit about their life with us. That age is so critical and you are trying to figure out who you are. I think kids that age really want to see your human side, and I appreciated those teachers who were "real" with us.
I always enjoyed teachers that engaged us in a real, two-way conversation and actually LISTENED to what we said...and influenced from a place of respecting us, versus looking at us as empty heads they were just there to dump information into.
One of the most damaging experiences I had was in 9th grade...I was struggling - A LOT - with algebra; our regular teacher went on sabbatical a few months into the year and a 'permanent sub' took over. When I went to her for help/tutoring, she ended up handing me her answer book and saying "Here, I just can't help you. I don't know how else to explain it to you." I think that was the point that I went from thinking I was somewhat intelligent to knowing I definitely was not, and I pretty much gave up on math altogether.
It's taken me up until the past few years to really believe that I am capable of understanding things and that I do have some intelligence. Not saying tha was ALL because of that teacher, but it definitely was a BIG deal.
Later, in Christian school, I also appreciated teachers that challenged us to understand and own what we believed and then really live it.
one VERY bad memory...a teacher asked me a question, I wasn't sure of the answer and fumbled a bit to find something to say. the teacher's response was, "What, are you stupid??" I will NEVER forget that. It's amazing how powerful our words are and how lasting their impression!
Leanne, I have a similar story, except I was in second grade and my teacher wouldn't let me go to the bathroom. It wasn't as dramatic as vomiting, but every bit as embarrassing. I peed in front of desk while waving my hand, "can I go..." and so I went. I'm pretty sensitive about letting my students go when (and where) they need to. :0
Kristin, I know what you mean about the human side. I loved hearing stories from my teachers. I remember my French teacher was a missionary to Africa. She came to class one day with a photo , featuring herself (the only white person) in a sea of black faces. The class clown (named Ben) said, "Which one are you?" And instead of laughing, she said, "I'm the one wearing panty hose!"
Jessi and Libby, there is no excuse for those teachers' words. Nothing is so painful as hearing (or feeling what's not said,) "You're stupid." I'm so sorry. I had a Bible teacher ask me, when giving me back a 92 % on a test, "Why can't you make high A's like your sister?" That was the day I decided to be a cheerleader. If you can't be smart, might as well have spirit, right?
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