my greatest teacher

I always knew that I wanted to be a teacher.

Constant example was perhaps key in this decision. My father was one of the best-known and well-respected teachers in the school district in which I was educated. I was thus raised with an awareness of the hours of behind-the-scenes work that teachers must employ to create magic in their classrooms, the exhaustion that follows a full day on your feet working to make that one lightbulb in the eyes of that student in the back corner desk to flicker on and to capture that child's attention, and the extras (the coaching, the extra-curricular activities) that all help to boost a teacher's salary so as to be able to financially raise a family, pay a mortgage, and live comfortably...on a meager teacher's salary.

I was thus raised with a high degree of respect, before I fully even understood the concept, for all my teachers and all they do--just for me.

I remember the names of each and every teacher of mine, and hold in my heart an enduring memory of each of them. Yet it was my father who was my first teacher. He taught me by example, not by endless lecture. He taught me of the qualities I would need to nurture in my soul to be able to be a truly great teacher, and that I can do anything I wanted, as long as my heart was in it. This lesson did not come through words; it came through a set example and implicit expectations.

Both my sister and I were pretty much straight-A students. I fell to one B+ in geometry Freshman year of high school one quarter, and that ruined my chances for any state school scholarships. Yet I was never chastized for grades; I was instead taught to take anything in which I may not have excelled and learn from it...indeed, often one learns more that way than through the mere memorization to be able to excel for the grade.

Cheating was unacceptable, and that was a question that would never cross my mind. Knowing that one of the class valedictorians, going off to Hahvahd in the fall was sitting with his jacket over his notebook page with calculus equations so he could move it with his foot and look made me lose all respect for him. It's not the school or the grades; it is the ethic you use to acquire the necessary information and apply it. Now, looking back, I feel bad for him--I know his mother put a huge amount of pressure on him to get the grade "or else". I know because she called me one night to complain to me about a B we had received on an Honors English project--so received as her darling son chose NOT to attend that class. I called the principal--evidently, so did she, and succeeded in getting his grade changed.

I have written on ethics in the educational workplace that do not jive with the simple ethic of teaching with which I was raised. It became increasingly difficult for me to mesh with an educational system that places higher priority on factors other than the ability to teach the students well.

Education has become an ego-driven profession, rather than one in operation for the best interests of the students. We see this now in so many ways:

Parents push for their students to be in the classes of those who teach for the test instead of those who teach--well, to teach. They fear that their child will be categorized as "stupid" if not in a GT program, or that they will not go to college if not pushed hard enough by grade 3. They forget that we all did just fine...without having an hour's worth of homework a night pushed on us until at least 5th or 6th grade, if not later.

Teachers feel the need to teach to the test for fear of losing funding, in *some* schools for a better salary as the teacher's salary and test scores are intertwined, for fear of parent fall-out when their children don't make the cut for GT programs, and for ensuring good student evaluations at the university level. The last parent night I attended left me disappointed at the highly defensive tone of my daughter's teacher; it was apparent to me that she felt need to defend her way of educating our children. I am in tune with my daughter and can see she is not only learning but also enjoying her experience, that couples education with a great emphasis on citizenship. Thus, I trust her teacher is doing a fine job.

When leaving the university two years ago, I was stunned that I had students who had the gall to say that they expected grades to be "given" if they complained loud enough. A close friend and colleague left Tulane for that same reason--this was a trustee's daughter who flunked and this professor was asked to "reevaluate" the grade. Evidently, these students have learned something from their parents...

Yet my father taught me that, when you love something enough, you will learn to capture your students and teach them in a way dictated through your passion. When he died, I had been teaching for almost ten years already, in some form or another. I didn't realize how many lives he had touched with his style, influence and humor until his funeral. The large church was filled with colleagues, recent students still in high school and even some of his very first students from 1967. He was lauded for his laughter and his ability to relate to the students at the junior high level--a true feat, learned from one who has taught middle school for three years. He was loved because he loved to teach.

Last night, my private student told me that he could always go find another Spanish class but that "you just don't find teachers like you." I am remembered and I am deeply honored when that occurs. I know people who are quitting their jobs, going back to school and earning their teaching certificates because they want to teach. That usually comes with a huge financial sacrifice. However, ask any teacher and s/he will tell you that we don't teach for the money, we teach for the love.

I can feel my father still guiding me in many steps I take daily. He taught me to ride a bike, to drive a stick and to not be afraid of the ball. He taught me to stand up and face consequences when I err, and to gracefully accept recognition when honored. I am blessed to have had my father as my greatest teacher, as were so many others with whom I shared my father.


Today is Blog Blast for Education. There is so much about which I could write. Instead, I ask that today you take a moment and think about the teacher who made the greatest impact on your life. And give thanks.