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.