OldLady
Diamond Member
- Nov 16, 2015
- 69,568
- 19,600
- 2,220
I liked this op ed in my local paper this morning; it sort of gets to the heart of what a good teacher can do. Hope you all had at least one Mrs. Krikorian.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Be sure to thank a teacher this week
George Danby | BDN
By Todd R. Nelson, Opinion guest contributor • May 6, 2019 9:58 am
For many of my teaching years, I’ve carried a poem by Sharon Olds in my heart. Every day, in every school, I saw examples of the fulfillment of its ancient history and prophecy of the future. “Mrs. Krikorian,” the teacher who was an “amiable giantess with the kind eyes” begins:
She saved me. When I arrived in sixth grade,
a known criminal, the new teacher
asked me to stay after school the first day, she said
I’ve heard about you. She was a tall woman,
with a deep crevice between her breasts,
and a large, calm nose. She said,
This is a special library pass.
As soon as you finish your hour’s work —
That hour’s work that took ten minutes
and then the devil glanced into the room
and found me empty, a house standing open —
you can go to the library.
Who was your Mrs. Krikorian? Can you hear the voice of your past teacher who took you in? Who looked past your rap sheet and outward appearances, who touched your potential with a knowing look or kind word? Who was the gentle giant or giantess in your life; who gave you extra time in the library?
I remember mine by their tone of voice. Mrs. Tapley, Mr. Williamson and Mr. Stevens all had a kind of perfect pitch, a resonant voice, stature and bearing. The effect of their pedagogy and curriculum still appears in my adult writing, my math skills, spelling or geographical literacy. Long division still confounds me, through no fault of Miss McCormack. I have a good working knowledge of the Earth’s surficial features. I can spell pretty well.
But what I learned from them is not the most important memory — and a clue as to what matters in schools. Their attitude and feeling toward me and toward their academic subject created the expectation for learning, a deep sense of aspiration. That’s a supreme educational standard.
Good teachers make children feel cared for, understood, challenged and appreciated. Of course, we also remember their moments of righteous indignation, mock ire and appropriately-timed withering glances! I can still hear Mr. Stevens, my fourth-grade teacher, scolding Vicki for making a sixth trip to the pencil sharpener to drop yet another note on Caroline’s desk. I do not remember his lesson, per se. Nor would Vicki, but surely she too can remember his tone. Its value was the true lesson.
By their tone, I knew my teachers were powerful, or not; knowledgeable, or faking it; sincere, or going through the motions. Looking back, I know that learning occurred most spontaneously, deeply, and lastingly for me when their tone synced with my developmental timing — and allowances were made for the unique tenor of any given day. It was then that I allowed myself to be taught — or conspired with my teachers to learn in spite of myself.
This is the fundamental transaction of good schools as well as authentic teachers: creating an atmosphere in which students learn because their teachers know them intimately, have their trust and ingeniously adapt information and skills.
It is my humble hope to think that I have affected a few of these transactions as a teacher and administrator. I can be certain of precipitating a few individual breakthroughs (“So that’s what this poem means!”); confident of training young writers in some key skills (with help from E.B. White); and hopeful that I’ve recruited, hired and supported teachers with a gift for getting the tone right. It would be my tribute to Mr. Stevens to think that I had, in fact, struck the right tone for just a few of my students and colleagues, just as he did for me. It’s my standard for even considering myself a teacher.
And whose Mrs. Krikorian are you?
Todd R. Nelson is a retired teacher and school principal in Penobscot. May 7 is Teacher Appreciation Day.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Be sure to thank a teacher this week
George Danby | BDN
By Todd R. Nelson, Opinion guest contributor • May 6, 2019 9:58 am
For many of my teaching years, I’ve carried a poem by Sharon Olds in my heart. Every day, in every school, I saw examples of the fulfillment of its ancient history and prophecy of the future. “Mrs. Krikorian,” the teacher who was an “amiable giantess with the kind eyes” begins:
She saved me. When I arrived in sixth grade,
a known criminal, the new teacher
asked me to stay after school the first day, she said
I’ve heard about you. She was a tall woman,
with a deep crevice between her breasts,
and a large, calm nose. She said,
This is a special library pass.
As soon as you finish your hour’s work —
That hour’s work that took ten minutes
and then the devil glanced into the room
and found me empty, a house standing open —
you can go to the library.
Who was your Mrs. Krikorian? Can you hear the voice of your past teacher who took you in? Who looked past your rap sheet and outward appearances, who touched your potential with a knowing look or kind word? Who was the gentle giant or giantess in your life; who gave you extra time in the library?
I remember mine by their tone of voice. Mrs. Tapley, Mr. Williamson and Mr. Stevens all had a kind of perfect pitch, a resonant voice, stature and bearing. The effect of their pedagogy and curriculum still appears in my adult writing, my math skills, spelling or geographical literacy. Long division still confounds me, through no fault of Miss McCormack. I have a good working knowledge of the Earth’s surficial features. I can spell pretty well.
But what I learned from them is not the most important memory — and a clue as to what matters in schools. Their attitude and feeling toward me and toward their academic subject created the expectation for learning, a deep sense of aspiration. That’s a supreme educational standard.
Good teachers make children feel cared for, understood, challenged and appreciated. Of course, we also remember their moments of righteous indignation, mock ire and appropriately-timed withering glances! I can still hear Mr. Stevens, my fourth-grade teacher, scolding Vicki for making a sixth trip to the pencil sharpener to drop yet another note on Caroline’s desk. I do not remember his lesson, per se. Nor would Vicki, but surely she too can remember his tone. Its value was the true lesson.
By their tone, I knew my teachers were powerful, or not; knowledgeable, or faking it; sincere, or going through the motions. Looking back, I know that learning occurred most spontaneously, deeply, and lastingly for me when their tone synced with my developmental timing — and allowances were made for the unique tenor of any given day. It was then that I allowed myself to be taught — or conspired with my teachers to learn in spite of myself.
This is the fundamental transaction of good schools as well as authentic teachers: creating an atmosphere in which students learn because their teachers know them intimately, have their trust and ingeniously adapt information and skills.
It is my humble hope to think that I have affected a few of these transactions as a teacher and administrator. I can be certain of precipitating a few individual breakthroughs (“So that’s what this poem means!”); confident of training young writers in some key skills (with help from E.B. White); and hopeful that I’ve recruited, hired and supported teachers with a gift for getting the tone right. It would be my tribute to Mr. Stevens to think that I had, in fact, struck the right tone for just a few of my students and colleagues, just as he did for me. It’s my standard for even considering myself a teacher.
And whose Mrs. Krikorian are you?
Todd R. Nelson is a retired teacher and school principal in Penobscot. May 7 is Teacher Appreciation Day.
