Tonight, for a number of reasons, I called my high school AP English teacher to tell her she’s the reason I enjoyed school and one of the reasons I became a teacher.
The story’s been told time and again about teachers making a difference for one student and how that student eventually came back to tell the teacher about why he/she became what he/she became and why he/she did so — I just figured I’d tell you about a real-life instance of this.
In High school I had a teacher who taught me how to write, who gave me the skills I have today, who didn’t take “no” for nothin’, and who was understanding when it was necessary. She was a wonderful role model as a teacher because she was tough beyond her exterior and soft when it was least expected. She told me when my writing was weak, she told me when my writing was exemplary, she told me when I was being an asshole, and she told me when I wasn’t pushing myself enough. We’ll call her Mrs. Hall.
Mrs. Hall was short in stature, tall in expectation. She only allowed for two instances (in one year) for creative work, and she gave me very differing remarks for each. One she said was outstanding and “observant,” the other she named “C.”
Her insistance for thorough work confounded me in a world of mediocre teachers who only sought minimal work. This insistance led me two more differing grades: An “A” for my paper on Elie Wiesel and a C for the paper and presentation on Yeats (whose work is, I just gotta say in my own defense, waaaay too thick for a 17-year-old).
But with my 10 year high school anniversary coming this summer, and the idea that my teachers wouldn’t attend, I decided to call the person who meant the most to me. And we had a great conversation about teaching, writing, students, parents, NCLB, standards, the classroom, and ultimately how amazing it is to see students grow over time.
It’s amazing, I said, to see how kids move from a one sentence answer to a prompt like: “tell me about you,” to a multiple-paged discussion about one specific topic.
“Isn’t it? Isn’t that fantastic?” she replied.
And it is. Kids just blow me away.
I just wanted to tell you why I called. Teachers talk about one student meeting them or calling them, saying they were the reason the student succeeded. I don’t know if, for you, this is one of those conversations, but I just wanted to let you know I really enjoyed your class, and that you’re one of the reasons I became a teacher. I just wanted to say thanks.
And she said: “You just made my year.”
And she made mine by saying that.
Give it a shot, if you have the chance. Call a teacher, call someone, to tell him/her he/she made a difference. As much as it’ll make the day or year of the person you call, it’ll also make you feel you’ve paid back a dividend long overdue.
Filed under: Reflection
You made me tear up. That is so wonderful that you did that. A lot of teachers don’t get to hear that kind of thing. I admit that I haven’t really heard anything approaching that yet.
A few years ago, I had the privilege of introducing two of my teachers — my two favorite teachers — to each other at a Georgia Council for Teachers of English convention. One was my high school English teacher for second semesters of both 11th and 12th grade. The other was my English Ed. professor at UGA. It was such a moving moment to be able to do that. I made sure I let them both know how important and inspiring they were to me.
I think we all need to do that.
I called my AP English teacher right before I started teaching–literally days before. I didn’t get as gushy with her, and it was hard to call her by her first name. I keep thinking I’ll call her.
I have written to my Junior English teacher, long hand-written letters, the last my first year of teaching. Not only did they publish one of his letters in the very first NCTE Council Chronicle that I received, but he was one of the consultants for the textbook in my first class. I did get kind of gushy with him.
I met up with both my 9th grade French teacher and AP US History teacher when I went to my home town, introduced them to my husband. I owe them a couple of letters too!
My mother was on the verge of failing some class she needed to graduate and was also in the midst of some other family turmoil. There was one teacher that she knew pretty well, from hanging out in her homeroom (if I have the story right). This teacher helped her get her act together and my mom graduated. Years and years later, my mother went back to school and got her doctorate. After she finished the program and graduated, she tracked down this teacher to tell her and to thank her. They’ve become good friends since and, it turns out, she went on to become, first the superintendent of a large school district in Pennsylvania and then, a higher-up at the company that develops the curriculum that my school uses!
Nice. I have a similar story with my latin teacher. check it out
http://johnmorello.com/wordpress/2006/03/27/latin-saved-my-soul/
BTW if you wanna add my blog to your list I would be honored.
[...] I noticed a little change in some of the daily visitors, and saw thatJohn Morellohad visited and commented on my phone call to a former teacher. John’s story is wonderful and full of life. He’s a great writer and after reading through a few of his other posts, I’m dyin’ to see his one-man show, “Dirt.” [...]
You are now a “he” on the LiveWire blog. Thanks for not getting too upset with my typo!
Sweeet. For some reason, I’m always referred to as “she.” Thanks for the change. :)
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