Teacher knows best

[Foggy]

Okay, balanced with a nice one.

Age 21, hadn't been in class since the day I finished high school, but I decided to take a couple classes at my local community college, Montgomery College in Rockville, MD. I took English and Biology. English was a three hour class on Saturday mornings, I was also working in a small engine repair shop 40 hours a week. Taught by a skinny little black lady who didn't weigh 100 lbs. soaking wet, and by god that lady knew more grammar and English than I did or ever will. She was AWESOME.

She made us read three autobiographies, and she gave us a list, and I read Malcolm X, Pablo Casals, and Margaret Mead.

She told us to write an essay, compare and contrast, what's similar and what isn't. I did Malcolm X and Margaret Mead, and if there were ever two more completely different individual Earthlings, I don't know who they are. So I wrote what was different about them, but there wasn't anything similar, so I skipped that part, and the damn teacher gave me a F and told me to do it over again. And Malcolm X and Margaret Mead were still so different it made your head hurt.

OMG, I was so pissed off. How fucking dare she flunk me, there wasn't anything! What am I supposed to write, they're both Earthlings? They're both homo sapiens? They both had a mommy and a daddy? And the part I did write, I did a very good job on it, how the hell could she give me an F? I was pounding the steering wheel and yelling at the top of my lungs on the drive home, I still remember. I was furious, but the only thing I could really do was try again.

And I did get an A at the end of the semester. That lady recognized that I did not belong being a dirty hippy in thirteenth grade in her community college English class, and she was not going to accept anything less than my very best, and she worked with me and got me inspired so much about learning and writing and doing things correctly that it got me all the way through a top-25 law school.

In the final analysis, she helped turn my life around. So I do have a special place inside for good teachers.

[W. Kevin Vicklund]

Dr. Vicklund and I each have a very similar story, but with very different endings. The first part is common to both of us. Keep in mind that these are completely different school districts, and I kicked and fought to be allowed to take the accelerated science path, so these happened simultaneously.

At the beginning of Fall 1992, we took high school chemistry. For reasons not germane to the story, the teachers assigned to our classes were unexpectedly unable to teach that year, and we started the year with substitutes until a full-time replacement could be found. These substitutes were not chemistry teachers, and so for the six weeks until the permanent replacements were hired, they taught the portion they knew. For Dr. Vicklund, that was density. Six. Weeks. Of. Density. I don't remember exactly what I was taught, but it was only slightly more diverse (and did include density).

Here is where we go into a Tale of Two Teachers. Dr. Vicklund's teacher assumed they had been taught to the syllabus he used, and so jumped in at Week 7. Nobody in that class had a clue what was going on as a result, and Dr. Vicklund being the brilliant creature she is, totally wrecked the curve despite not understanding (to her standards) the material. She for years assumed that she wasn't good at chemistry as a result. My teacher, on the other hand, surveyed us on the first day and realized we were about 5 weeks behind, and restructured the syllabus to get us back on track. It was accelerated, but perfect for me. With the accelerated pace and my detailed understanding (also, I read the book backwards when I got bored), I too wrecked the curve, and I emerged confident in my chemistry skills.

A little while after we met, our shared story emerged, and I in short term explained all those concepts she hadn't quite grasped. She still comes to me for detailed physical science explanations, but she is quite capable of understanding the concepts in very short order.

And that's the difference a good teacher makes.

[MN-Skeptic]

It's funny how teachers have their biases. When I moved to Iowa before 8th grade, my friends from the East Elementary had a different experience than those from the West Elementary. The 6th grade East side teacher loved English and her students got it in depth. They were parsing sentences, for example. The West side teacher on the other hand loved math. His students were learning how to calculate square roots. It made life interesting when the students got mixed together in the 7th grade junior high.

[Sam the Centipede]

It made life interesting when the students got mixed together in the 7th grade junior high.

Parabolic infinitives and subjunctive equations!

Don't confuse the ergodic with the ergative!

[humblescribe]

I think many teachers early in their careers think that they will take the world by storm and teach their students they way they were taught and came to understand their subject matters. I also think that the styles employed by English and other humanities subjects must be different from math and science. The good ones come to realize after a decade or so that not all brains process the curriculum the same. Some people struggle with mastering parts of the course. The good teachers identify those who are avid to learn but poor to execute. They'll offer guidance instead of a C- on the assignment with a note, "You can do better."

I've come to realize that abstract concepts are totally beyond me. Totally. There must be some groundwork laid before the material begins to sink in. In English, grammar, spelling, and composition were easy because by and large, they were logical. I could figure things out. On the other hand, literature was a mite tough. Symbolism and literary metaphor were too abstract for me. "Moby Dick" was an exciting sea faring tale. Period. (Of course allegories like "Animal Farm" were obviously metaphorical. That sort of literature I understood.)

Similarly, in math so much of the knowledge is unseen much beyond arithmetic, basic algebra, and geometry. Hyperbolic trig ratios? Imaginary numbers? Transcendental calculus?

Science follows the same path. Levo-vs. dextro-rotatory isomers? Cis vs. trans isomers? Endothermic or exothermic reactions? And we are just supposed to know because it is obvious that the boiling point of cis-xyz is 4 degrees lower than trans-xyz? Um hmmm.

Granted a lot of the math and science stuff is college-level, not primary or secondary grade levels. But I think that there is more to educating youth than a bunch of memorization for a test or regurgitation for an essay. The good teachers coax our potential out of us.

[Foggy]

Is this a teacher story? I've told it before.

Senior in high school, rebellious hippy but I was going to graduate, and I took Music Appreciation. Somewhat into the semester, the teacher (also he was the band teacher) came to me.

"Foggy," he said, "Someone has stolen all the tuba mouthpieces and the band can't do a performance without them. I know they're being used as pot pipes."

I had not stolen any of them, but ... he came to the right guy. I knew people, and I liked that teacher, and I managed to get three of them back, no reward accepted.

So I reckon that's a teacher story.

[neonzx]

Is this a teacher story? I've told it before.

Senior in high school, rebellious hippy but I was going to graduate, and I took Music Appreciation. Somewhat into the semester, the teacher (also he was the band teacher) came to me.

"Foggy," he said, "Someone has stolen all the tuba mouthpieces and the band can't do a performance without them. I know they're being used as pot pipes."

I had not stolen any of them, but ... he came to the right guy. I knew people, and I liked that teacher, and I managed to get three of them back, no reward accepted.

So I reckon that's a teacher story.

Your high-school experience was vastly different than mine.

I had a shaggy head of hair, but I was also in the super geek club. And faculty would come to me to track occasional problems because they knew I brain recorded everything and knew everything. Neon was a nark at times. A little bit of that is okay.

[Frater I*I]

I had a shaggy head of hair, but I was also in the super geek club. And faculty would come to me to track occasional problems because they knew I brain recorded everything and knew everything. Neon was a nark at times. A little bit of that is okay.

Narc....




And snitchin' is bitchin'!!!!!!

[neonzx]

Narc....

And snitchin' is bitchin'!!!!!!

I think the proper saying is snitches get stitches.


And I never needed stitches. And was not a badass, but just some small kid with the higher powers requiring my assistance. (I had access to a master key for the entire school).
MEDIA CENTER AID.
(great volunteer job if you can get it)

[Maybenaut]

I had a shaggy head of hair, but I was also in the super geek club. And faculty would come to me to track occasional problems because they knew I brain recorded everything and knew everything. Neon was a nark at times. A little bit of that is okay.

My grandson is a Junior in high school. He saw some kids take the teacher’s remote and hide it. At the end of class he got the remote from its hiding place and gave it to the teacher. He told the teacher that he had to wait until after class because it’s a small school and he has to get along with these people. He wouldn’t say who did it, but told the teacher he could probably guess.

It’s tough being 16.

[Gregg]

Is this a teacher story? I've told it before.

Senior in high school, rebellious hippy but I was going to graduate, and I took Music Appreciation. Somewhat into the semester, the teacher (also he was the band teacher) came to me.

"Foggy," he said, "Someone has stolen all the tuba mouthpieces and the band can't do a performance without them. I know they're being used as pot pipes."

I had not stolen any of them, but ... he came to the right guy. I knew people, and I liked that teacher, and I managed to get three of them back, no reward accepted.

So I reckon that's a teacher story.

Piker, in a real High School you steal the tuba and use the whole thing for really big bowls. It's a Tommy Chong pot pipe.