Ode to Teachers

 

This week is Teacher's Week in Joe's column.  Last week I wrote about Coaches.  Not long ago, I wrote about teachers, coaches, and Scout leaders. 

 Today, it’s the teacher’s turn.

Mrs. Betty Swiney was one of my kindergarten teachers.  She and Mrs. Ross. Do you ever have a name pop up and then you think of a one word memory of that person? When I think about Mrs. Swiney, the word "safe." pops up.  She made us feel safe, most of us doing something outside our own home for the first time.

First grade was Mrs. Turner--she and her husband were great friends of my parents.  Her 6’8” husband and my 5’6” dad until the day they died.  I always thought that I got special treatment because of that but after talking to others many years later, I realized that she made everyone in her class feel that way.

Mrs. Limburg was one that made us want to go to school, even though recess was my personal favorite subject. Other names escape me. Mrs. Johns in 4^th grade was the mother of a classmate. Mrs. Cantrell in the 5^th grade was special and could read our minds.

Schools integrated when I went into the 7th grade and, for the first time, we switched classes.  Mr. Archer was our favorite and years later, we were friends as adults. Both his sons were in my Sunday School class many years later. 

In the 8th grade, the principal, Mr. Rothwell taught us science. His daughter Ann and I grew up together and remain friends, as were our parents. I loved Mr. Rothwell but he wouldn't hold back if I was getting out of line. Mrs. Galyon was our Social Sciences teacher and was definitely old school.  It's interesting that I don't remember her first name but I remember her husband's first name.  It was Stanley.

High school was a mix of football, girlfriend, time with great friends, and a little bit of the academic side.  School was easy for me and I didn’t always focus like I should. I guess “A’s” came too easy for me.

Mrs. Marcus taught both freshman science and sophomore biology.  She was awesome.  Ms. Wattenbarger (sophomore English) was really good but I remember most fondly her student teacher, who had been a track star at UT and had us break down and analyze popular music like The Beatles’ “Revolution” and “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds.”  Unorthodox, but it clicked with me. I discovered poetry in the most unlikely of places. 

My favorite in high school was Mrs. Smith who taught Chemistry and Physics.  Her daughter Suzie was in my class and, for maybe the first time, somebody recognized that maybe I had a brain after all.

Edward Headlee (later Dr. Headlee and School Superintendent) was our senior English teacher and probably more responsible than anyone else for 40 years of this column.  I can still recite parts of 17^th century Beowulf, spoken in old English.

The path of our life is determined by those teachers. Good teachers teach more than sentence structure and chemical formulas. Good teachers invest their lives in the development of somebody else’s children.  They aren’t paid well and rarely get the accolades or appreciation that they so richly deserve.

So, if you get a chance to look up one of your old teachers, or if you happen to run into them somewhere along the way, tell them. Tell them of what they meant to you. Tell them how your life turned out.

Trust me, it will mean the world to them.

Coaches Make A Difference

 

I recently ran into a young man that I hadn’t seen in a very long time. He came up to me at an event at The Clayton Center and for a moment, I didn’t know who he was.  When he spoke his name, I knew immediately who he was.  He really hadn’t changed that much in the 20 or so years since I had last seen him.

He was an outstanding athlete growing up, eventually being on the track team in college.  He has a family, a career, and is a contributing member of society.

Way back then, he played on a travel basketball team that I coached. He actually played on that team for several years. 

When my kids were growing up, I coached pretty much everything they played. I’ve written about that here before.  Basketball, football, baseball, soccer, softball. 

I mentioned before that I had restarted the Blount Stars travel basketball program that Charlie Finley and Tom Ware had operated many years before. It was on one of those teams that this young man played.

But here’s the point of all this—he called his wife and son over and introduced me. He said “this was my Coach growing up.”  I’m not sure I deserved the title “Coach,” but for a moment, I was proud that he saw me that way.  It is an admirable profession.

I also recently received a letter from another young man from that era.  He had played both basketball and football for teams that I coached or helped coach. He had recently received his Ph.D. and wrote a meaningful (to me) letter about those days.

Quoting from that letter:  “I wanted to write to you and let you know of the massive and positive effect you had on my life and my career….in addition to learning how to compete and win, you helped your players learn how to be young men.”

Wow! I had no idea.  That means more to me than any award I have ever received.

Most people don’t think of me as Coach, and my coaching career was short, basically only while my own kids were growing up.  I’m always Joe, or to a few, Dr. Black, but those two episodes made some things very clear to me.

One, we have no idea what kind of impact that we are having on others. You never know who is watching you, learning how to behave, how to act, how to treat people.

Two, coaches (and teachers—more on that next week) have a profound influence on our young people.  Coaches change lives. I’ve told the story here many times about Coach Ratledge, my high school coach, and the influence he had on me.

Three, we have a responsibility to be good people, to be good role models, to live a life of integrity, empathy, authenticity, and accountability.  Regardless of how insignificant you might think your life is, somebody is watching and learning. All they want is to grow up to be like you.

Behave accordingly, please. The world needs that.