(This is in response to PeterJ's request that I write a blog entry about someone I admire or respect. He earned the right to ask that after he passed the 25 Blog Point mark with all of his marvelous answers to trivia hereabouts.)
While it's certainly the case that I have nearly boundless admiration for police officers and firefighters, there's another occupation that I think doesn't get the respect that it deserves. Every adult was once a child, and nearly every child was greatly influenced at various points in their life by someone in the teaching profession. I can't deny there are some bad teachers out there - I had some, and as far as I could tell from afar, Tammy did, as well - but it's also a tough job that we seem to make harder with each generation. Many parents these days seem to think it's their calling to micromanage their childrens' teachers, and to expect that their kids will get special attention and treatment that's just impractical in a public school system where each teacher has 20 students or more. It's all well-intentioned on the parents' part, I'm sure, but it also overlooks the fact that, unlike private tutors, teachers have entire classes to bring up the learning curves.
When I was in Grade 6, I was lucky enough to have the greatest teacher I'd ever encounter, Mr Bill Allen. He was a pretty "out there" educator, even for the 70s! He recognized in me, as well as some other students in his class, untapped potentials and encouraged them to grow. It was clear to anyone who knew me then - as now - that comic books were a major interest of mine, and rather than dismissing them as kids' stuff that I should've outgrown already - as I was used to hearing at that age - he told me to make my own and he'd put them on display in the classroom! I worked with another classmate who was similarly smitten by the genre at that time, and for weeks we produced what I'm sure must've been cringe-inducing tales of God Knows What on big sheets of paper that adorned our home-room and were the center of attention everytime a new one went up! I seem to recall these masterpieces revolved around superheroes, but whether they were our own creations or lifted from the comics of the day, I couldn't say.
Mr Allen also read us short stories in class sometimes, to fire our imaginations. One that I always remember him sharing with us was "The Scythe" by Ray Bradbury. These were eleven- and twelve-year-olds, remember, and I doubt any of us had ever encountered a tale quite like that before. To say that he inspired me to pursue whatever interested me, wherever it lead, would be an understatement. I shudder to think of how different I'd be today, if I'd never had a teacher who encouraged the non-conformist in me, like he did.
I was also fortunate enough to have a friendship with him for years afterward, well into high school. And blessed to have a discerning mother who could tell the difference between a committed teacher and a sexual predator (we just called them "perverts" in those days, I think), and recognize that Bill Allen was the former and therefore she had nothing to worry about when her son spent time with him and his family.
So I dedicate this blog entry to Bill Allen - wherever he may be - and to all the good teachers out there, taking shit from parents for actually expecting young Billy or Ashley to maybe grow a little, as the educators work hard to shape their young minds.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
4 comments:
Thanks, for all that.
A funny thing that I'm pretty sure you didn't know going in is that both of my parents are teachers---Dad for 30+ years (40+ if you count his current retirement activities), and Mom full-time for several years and on a supply basis after I and my younger siblings showed up. (Yes, they taught all three of their kids---high school French, mostly---and yes, we had to refer to them in class as "M. Janes" and "Mme. Janes".) At one point in university I was convinced that I wanted to follow in their footsteps. Fortunately they talked me out of taking on teaching as a profession, without dampening my interest in doing it less formally.
That's awesome (explains a lot about why you are the way you are!) and you're right: I had no idea!
I think teaching is one of the most important jobs in the world, considering the amount of influence they exert over "the next generation." I wish more parents were motivated to work with their kids' teachers, rather than against them. Here's a story I didn't include in the original write-up, since it could be interpreted as an indictment of a teacher, but in my mind it shows how I think a parent can complement their child's education.
When Tammy hit Grade 9 Math, they had just changed the curriculum (of Grade 9, not just Math) and much of the material the niners were expected to know hadn't been taught to them yet (it would be covered earlier, for those coming up behind them). As a result, more than half of Tammy's Grade 9 Math class had notes sent home early in the course, basically saying, "Several weeks in, your child is failing math. Please come in for a talk and help out any way you can."
Since Vicki and I were both straight-A high school Math students in our day (in my case, I don't think I ever had a Math mark that was below 95%), this came as quite a shock! So of course we went in for a meeting with her Math teacher, and I sized him up for what he was: a Geography teacher who'd been assigned to teach Math, at a time when the course material had changed and was therefore proving a huge challenge to cover. He was a nice enough guy - and Tammy kept saying, "He's a great teacher!" - but clearly in a tough situation. From what I can tell, this is where lots of parents blow their stack, or start scrambling to move their kid to another teacher/class.
Instead, we decided that what Tammy needed was some individual attention to give her a better footing in Math. We could've hired a tutor for that, but since I both love Math and felt competent explaining it, I took on the job.
At first it was rough on both of us, as I expected Tammy to bear down right away and she was probably a bit frustrated by the whole arrangement, but fairly quickly we got into a good rhythm. Her work ethic improved dramatically, and I learned when to push her and when to give her a break so she could digest new concepts, and before long she was getting markedly better results on her tests at school, and only getting stuck on the most difficult homework problems at night. And, I like to think, we bonded a bit over this, as it continued for a few months and more often than not, we both looked forward to "Math time."
She had had a 42% Math mark when the note came home, and finished the year with an 84% final result, if my memory serves me. And that was by far her lowest Math mark over her high school career, as by Grade 10 she was getting the top mark and never really relinquished that crown. And my involvement in her Math homework went down each year, to the point where in Grades 11 and 12, I'm not sure if I even helped her at all! By then she was helping other students learn the new material.
The moral of the story, from my point-of-view, is that sometimes teachers need help. This was an extreme case, where the powers that be decided to turn the curriculum on its head, and of course getting through it that first year was a taunting task. That's when parents need to step up and remember that, really, their child's welfare is more directly their responsibility than the school system's, and they don't get to just abdicate that and blame everything on the teacher(s).
As someone married to a teacher, I know that all teachers wish more parents were like you! It never ceases to amaze me the lengths some parents will go to so that they are "friends" with their "can't do anything wrong" kids.
=)
Yeah, it seems like we have to live at one end of the extreme or the other. When I was a kid, I remember most parents being very hard on their children. For example, if a kid got a 'bad report' sent home (like the note we got about Tammy's 42% in Math), the first thing that would happen is the parent would either hit their child (with a hand, a belt, a wooden spoon or some other instrument of fear) or ground them. In other words, the parent assumed the kid was 'no good' and needed their bad streak beaten/punished out of them.
Nowadays, as Mr K says, too many parents assume their offspring can do no wrong, and that whatever is going awry must be the other parties' fault. God have mercy on your soul if you ever criticize anyone's child these days!!
Why is it so hard to strike a happy medium?
Post a Comment