Teachers

I can still name all my elementary school teachers (I may be off on the spelling):


KG: Mrs. Claybaugh (I actually went to 2 different schools, the first school I only went for one day before the school was closed down and I don’t remember her name)

1st: Mrs. Bollinger

2nd: Mrs. Kyler

3rd: Mrs. Butt (she was great, although I can’t think of a worse name for an elementary teacher)

4th: Mrs. Smith

5th: Mrs. Grant

I remember most of my middle and high school teachers, and I remember my college professors of course.

Aren’t they amazing? They take these tiny children who at the beginning can barely hold a pencil correctly and year after year turn them into students who do advanced physics and speak with enormous vocabularies. Not only that, they deal with the drama and angst from the students, and the hovering and second-guessing of the parents. Anyone who doesn’t think that teachers DON’T get paid enough, has not spent enough time with children. Children are crazy. I heard a comedian on NPR say this the other day “Having children, it's like... living with little mini drug addicts. Y'know, they're laughing one minute, and then they're crying the next, and then they're trying to kill themselves in your bathroom for no good reason. They're very mean and selfish; they burn through your money...” Imagine spending hours every day with 20+….I think teachers must be a little crazy too!

My oldest son is, in part, named after my favorite teacher. My senior year of high school, Mr. R was really sick; we were told that he probably wouldn’t make it. He was set to direct the spring musical, but couldn’t, of course, and so the musical director asked for my help in the choreography (she gave me a co-director credit that I didn’t deserve!). Mr. R recovered, but I didn’t see him until later in the summer. I was in a summer production of The King and I (semi permanent black hair dye is actually permanent, FYI!) and after a show, someone came into the dressing room and told me there was a Paul looking for me. Paul? Did I know a Paul? When I realized that Paul was Mr. R, I ran still barefoot back stage (a cardinal “no-no” but since we were all barefoot all the time, they were very diligent with the sweeping!) and hugged Mr. R. I am pretty sure I cried, I was so happy to see him, so happy that we hadn’t lost him. He told me that I’d done a great job and that I “looked comfortable up there”. Fittingly, “Thank You” were the last words I ever spoke to Mr. R., he passed away from the same illness my sophomore year of college.

Many of my friends are teachers, elementary, middle, high school; I’m even friends with some college Ph.D.s! Nice, right? (Yes JT…I would like a bozo button!)  How did I end up with so many crazy friends?

We are close to wrapping up the school year with the boys, I had a conference with H’s preschool teacher (there is a special place in heaven for preschool teachers) and L has only 2 weeks left of school. I am so grateful for the wonderful teachers that my sons have had. They are still very early in their academic careers, and I am certain they will have many inspiring and terrific formal teachers before they are done. I also hope they will have many inspiring and terrific informal teachers for the rest of their lives.