Appreciating Teachers

“Knowledge lights our way.” — Yoda

May 05, 2021

Today, May Fourth, is the annual Teacher Appreciation Day. It’s the one day each year American’s dedicate to honoring educators, those who dedicate their whole lives to teaching and to their students. After the challenging pandemic year classroom teachers have had, I think we should dedicate waaay more than one day to honoring them—perhaps a Teacher Appreciation Month.

“Knowledge lights our way.” — Yoda

It’s also May-The-4th-Be-With-You Day or Star Wars Day. That’s fitting. After all, wasn’t Yoda the oldest and wisest teacher that ever lived?

On this day, I find my mind time-traveling back to the classrooms and teachers in my own early life—the women and men who inspired me and influenced who I would become. There are many I remember clearly, though three stand out from my elementary school days at Christian Day in San Fernando, way back in the 1960's.

Mrs. Reid, slender, dark-haired, gentle-voiced, and very strict, taught me to read in first grade, using the famous (or infamous) Dick and Jane series. I can vividly see and even hear the first pages of those books. I loved Dick, Jane, Sally, and of course, Spot.

Look.
Look, look.
Oh, look.
See Spot.
See Spot run.
Run, Spot, run!

I had come to first grade with a powerful desire to learn the twin mysteries of reading and writing, and Mrs. Reid granted that wish. (Don't you just love the irony of her name?) I am forever grateful to her. I can see that wide room, cool and dark, filled with wood-topped desks, rubbed deep-brown and satin-smooth from years of eager use.

Mrs. Reid would pass around a bin full of small, square, yellow letter-tiles from which we would take great handfuls, then quietly create words on our desktops. I felt a sense of magic in that activity: I had the power to conger words and sentences that others could read and understand! It was like a secret code, and I had learned the key. To this day, I’m enthralled by the power of words. The power to tell stories, to evoke emotions, to explain ideas, and to connect with others.

In fourth grade, I basked in the radiance of Mrs. Hart (again, a name so like her being!) She was round and warm and constantly smiling—she oozed love. Her classroom was brightly lit and full of colors. Students' papers smiled proudly from the walls. I know we studied math and science and California history, complete with the standard mission model project, but my most powerful memory is of the books Mrs. Hart kept on a special shelf at the back of the room.

A series of biographies of famous Americans written especially for children, we were allowed to borrow them to read during free time or when we had finished an assignment. A contest developed: who could read the most books from this vast collection before the year was over? I loved those books, especially those few about famous female Americans like Betsy Ross and Abigail Adams. Every spare moment I could squeeze out of the day, I spent reading those books. There were about fifty, I think, and I read most, though not all, of them. My interest in strong female characters has stayed with me. While young, I found the life stories of women like Harriet Tubman, Amelia Earhart, and Eleanor Roosevelt to be powerful influences on my own life and character.

Last week, I watched as Vice President Kamala Harris and Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi stood behind President Biden as he spoke to Congress and all of America—an historical first! I know their life stories will inspire Twenty-First Century girls and young women in the same way.

Mr. Fesler made my sixth-grade year amazing, utterly amazing. Tall and slender, dressed in shirt and tie, Mr. Fesler was a commanding figure. He was brilliant—he seemed to know everything about everything. And he was artistic and creative, too. Oh, Mr. Fesler held us up to the highest standards, pushed us academically, then rewarded us with his attention and compliments.

I started the year with four lovely spiral notebooks, each a different pastel color. I had never before possessed a spiral notebook; they seemed so adult and I felt so grownup using them. I remember taking notes and drawing careful and detailed illustrations with colored pencils in those books: Ra the Sun God, a map of the Nile, a neuron and a muscle cell, the digestive system. (You know, I still have those four notebooks!)

We did Algebra, too, that year. (How grownup is that!) I learned about X and Y and equations and fell in love with them all. Math is black and white; answers are right or wrong. And, if they're wrong, you can confidently go back and make them right. (What power!) Every afternoon that year, I came home from school, and immediately sat down at the dining room table to do my homework, always starting with math. That table, where ever it’s gone, bears the scars of my math homework, numbers and equations impressed into its wooden surface.

“Always pass on what you have learned.” — Yoda

When I grow up, I wanna be… a teacher!

The many wonderful teachers who taught me also inspired me to become an educator. Over the twenty-five years of my teaching career, more than a thousand seventh and eighth graders passed through my classroom. I can only hope that during that brief moment in their lives, I was half as impactful as Mrs. Reid, Mrs. Hart, and Mr. Fesler were in my life.

Who were your favorite teachers?

Which teachers had the greatest influence on you?

Did you grow up to be an educator, too?

It's Dawning on Me

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