Teachers Who Influenced Me
Originally Published on Myspace blog Musing of an aspiring writer on August 14, 2006. Moved for your reading pleasure.
Writing prompt from Writingfix.com "List all the TEACHERS WHO AFFECTED YOU STRONGLY. Choose several from your completed list and write about HOW TEACHERS CAN UNKNOWINGLY INFLUENCE A PERSON."
Miss. Grinsey, 2nd grade - first year that I spent the whole year in one school. It's been a long time, but I remember admiring her so much. She had an incredibly messy desk, drank diet coke for breakfast, and was a geology buff. She was big on the class behaving and rewarding us for it. Each day, every student that behaved during the day got a marble to put in a big glass jar on her desk. When the jar was filled the class would vote on various reward activities. Once we chose to paint ceramics; I painted a little lady bug. Another time, we watched a movie; The Secret of Nim, which I love to this day.
The most important personal milestone in her class was when I got caught cheating on a spelling test. Every Monday, she handed out a list of spelling word on a narrow sheet of paper. The idea was to study off the list all during the week for the test on Friday. My memory is unclear if I was the only student involved, or if my little pal, possibly named Amanda, was also caught. The cheating was accomplished by rolling the receipt sized list, putting in my desk, and sneaking glances. Someone saw it, and turned me, or us, in.
Although this is a standerd tale in many ways, the wrinkle for me is the reason I cheated. When I was being born, I lost oxengen for a short time and suffered some mild brain damage. Although by second grade I was out of the leg braces and casts that had been prercribed to lenthen my achelle's heel, I still had trouble with spelling and math; anything that was more rote memory based. I would study so very hard all week, alone and with my parents, and still do poorly on the test come Friday.
When I was caught, I got a stern talking to my Miss Grinsey, and my parents were notified. I don't know how many weeks it had gone on. I would guess only a few. I was ashamed, because I only wanted to make my teacher and parents proud. When I got home, my parents taught me one of the most important values of my childhood. They were upset, but knowing that I had always done my best, they made it clear that my best was all that cared about. Cheating was unacceptable, but if I worked hard and my best was not an A or B, then that was okay.
Mrs. Brooks, end of 3rd and 4th grade - I went to three schools in third grade. My dad was transfered from CT to WA, and we moved from an apartment into navy housing after that. Mrs. Brooks was the perfect teacher in a school that was over 90% kids from military families, because her husband was retired Navy. She knew what it was like to move all the time and have a daddy (it was a sub base so very few mommies) who was gone six months out of the year. The tradition in her classroom was to have a little Christmas celebration on the 25th of each month, because she knew so often our families celebrated holidays early or late when the whole family was there. She was a trained folk story teller, so what I remember of those "Christmases" was the class sitting on the floor with the lights dimmed while she told us a story. I don't remember most, but clearly remember crying at the little match girl, because she freezes to death at the end.
What Mrs. Brooks gave me that changed my life is acknowledgment of my learning problems, however slight they were. I tested high on reading comprehension, but spelling remained my nightmare. Math was more of a challenge for me than most of my classmates. I got some special testing and help, which must have worked, but I don't remember anything about it. I do remember Mrs. Brooks telling me that different parts of the brain are involved in the things I was good at then the things I had trouble with. Whatever methods where used that year worked. By the end of fourth grade, I was becoming the book-worm I am today. My lifelong love affair with the written word was solidified with books like the Borrowers, the Boxcar Children series, and many others checked out of the library at Cougar Valley Elementary.
Mr. Turner, 8th grade pre-Algrbra - I had taken pre-algebra level math in sixth and seventh grades. When we moved from Hawaii to Silverdale, WA, it was already October. I hated math, because I didn't get it. I got reading oriented classes, but I could only tread water in math.
Mr. Turner was the first math teacher I ever had that taught for the math-dumb kids like me. He spent the whole class period at the dry erase board, doing problem after problem. An hour of that was so boring. I admit to having written many letters and poems in that class, because the math did not interest me.
But eventually I got it. And more important, I got that I had to be shown over and over. I wasn't going to pick up how to solve an equation like I pick up the plot of a book. It didn't even make me dumb, maybe slightly below average in math, but I could learn it. I don't think I ever really loved math, but it felt really good feeling capable of math.
I don't know if I got an A that year, but I moved up to Algebra in 9th grade, where I did get an A.
Mrs. Fenton - 8th grade, English and History - My first day in Mrs. Fenton's class she unknowingly influenced my life. It was October and my family had moved a month into the school year. At Ridgetop Junior High School, English and eight grade US history were taught as a "block"; two hours together, same teacher, same classmates. Ours fell third and fourth period, with lunch in between. When it came time for lunch, Mrs. Fenton asked a reliable student to take me to the cafeteria, and show me how things worked. Renee was a shy, smart, hardworking student. It happened that we lived in the same apartments, so in addition to eating lunch together each day, we walked home from school together. We are still friends today.
Oddly, the other influences Mrs. Fenton had on me were decidedly negative. Her class was out of control, and her teaching pandered to the lowest preforming students. By the time I reached her class, she had stopped assigning chapters from the history text as homework, because the vast majority of the class was not doing it. Instead, she had each student read a paragraph aloud in class. This reading would take the bulk of the class time for a mere two pages of text, then we would answer the five questions at the end of the lesson. I went round and round on a regular basis with Mrs. Fenton, because I stubbornly refused to follow along with the class during the reading. I would read the text and answer the questions, throughly and in complete sentences, in fifteen or twenty minutes. When finished, I never bothered the class, but did my math homework, wrote, or read my own book. I would be scolded when it was my turn to read aloud, because I did not know where the class was. "But I'm done," was my reasoning. I was once held after class for not paying attention after I was done when I was totally absorbed in reading Little Women. The fact that I was reading an American classic was completely lost on her.
Worse, it was in her classes that I was ceaselessly pick on, tortured really. Five or six of the boys found me an easy target. I was verbally teased, but also poked with pencils and had chairs pulled from under me. By early spring, I dreaded going to school. I finally did have enough and went to Mrs. Fenton after class. She may not have known the full extent of the abuse, but when I asked for help, she said, "you say things back to them." And refused to do anything at all. I did get my help by telling my mom what was happening. We went to the school counselor. The problem was taken very seriously. I may have never had a problem with those boys again, but I was certainly changed because of the things she allowed to go on in her classroom.
Mrs. Gunterman, 9th grade English and Journalism - The first half of the year in Mrs. Gunterman's class, we read Romeo and Juliet, wrote a research paper, and had a creative writing unit, among other things. The second half of the year, we put out a newspaper for our junior high school.
I loved Romeo and Juliet, especially because Mrs. Gunterman taught well, having it read dramatically and letting the class in on the "jokes" that were obvious to everyone when the play was new. Partly to help us understand the era, we were to write research papers on a topic from the middle ages. I wrote about Martin Luther.
The creative writing unit influenced me most. I went from a constant reader and letter writer with an interest in writing, to having actual skills to write poems. I think we must have written short stories, but I don't remember mine if we did. I did write many poems, and several very good poems. From that point on, I wrote poems about everything. As with all writing, much of it was bad, but having that creative outlet was invaluable for me.
One of the tools Mrs. Gunterman used to teach us to write poetry was having each student memorize a classic poem. I learned Longfellow's The Tide Rises, The Tide Falls. I could still recite it if I need to.
I did enjoy the journalism portion of the class. I was able to work closely with Renee. We both loved the idea of journalism. Neither of us were popular enough to be voted into an editorial position, but when it came to putting the paper to bed, we were some of the few able and willing to stay after school to get the job done. The school had brand new software called Microsoft Publisher. Our teacher and class learned and taught each other, with many mistakes and system crashes. (I would toss my computer off a bridge if it locked up as often as those mid-90's machines did.)
Before this class, I considered journalism a possible future career. After, not so much. I loved creative and personal writing, but learned that journalism has a different purpose, and I wasn't interested in it. Renee, however, found a passion. Today she holds a post graduate degree in Journalism from Washington State University.
Teachers from Kent-Meridian High School
Ms. Bush, Multi-cultural lit - My junior year, I took three English classes. I loved it. Multi-cultural lit was a tough reading class that Ms. Bush created and taught. We read books from various ethnic groups in the US. We talked and debated about the issues in each book in class. We read more books than I remember, but the three I did are books and authors that I am devoted to. Anyone who introduces me to three great books, and helps me understand more about them, is a major influence in my life. Those books are: The Handmaid's Tale, by Margaret Atwood; The Joy Luck Club, by Amy Tan; and The Lone Ranger and Tonto Fistfight in Heaven, by Sherman Alexie. Look 'em up, they are awesome.
Mr. Brush, poetry workshop and senior English - Mr. Brush was a legend at K-M. He'd been teaching there since the 60's, worked as a bartender in Seattle on the weekends, and was an honest to gosh published writer, but you never heard it from him. The first class I took with him was poetry workshop, second semester of my junior year. The requirements where that we kept a journal, turned in at least five rough poems a week, and two finished. Most class periods, he handed out photocopied sheets of poems, quotes for epigraphs, or ideas of types of poems to try.
One big focus of his when editing our rough poems that suck with me is "be specific". My favorite example in one of my poems was the suggestion to use the name of a candy bar, rather than saying "candy bar" in my poem called "postcards". It was about a road trip my family took when I was 15, stopping at a gas station, and buying a postcard with a scene I'd never seen.
When I was a senior, I had Mr. Brush only for second semester English. By that time, I was working full time, or close to it, at Payless Shoe. I had realized that I only needed one P.E. credit, so I don't care about getting grades in the rest of my classes. Not long into the class, Mr. Brush called me up to his desk, because I hadn't turned in any essays. He asked, "Do you need this class to graduate?" I told him no. He asked if I was reading the books, and I was. I participated in class, even, so he was understanding that I didn't care.
We read some really great books that semester. It was the first time I read Cather in the Rye. We read Kafka's short story Metamorphosis and Grendel, a novel based on Beowulf from the monster's view.
Writing prompt from Writingfix.com "List all the TEACHERS WHO AFFECTED YOU STRONGLY. Choose several from your completed list and write about HOW TEACHERS CAN UNKNOWINGLY INFLUENCE A PERSON."
Miss. Grinsey, 2nd grade - first year that I spent the whole year in one school. It's been a long time, but I remember admiring her so much. She had an incredibly messy desk, drank diet coke for breakfast, and was a geology buff. She was big on the class behaving and rewarding us for it. Each day, every student that behaved during the day got a marble to put in a big glass jar on her desk. When the jar was filled the class would vote on various reward activities. Once we chose to paint ceramics; I painted a little lady bug. Another time, we watched a movie; The Secret of Nim, which I love to this day.
The most important personal milestone in her class was when I got caught cheating on a spelling test. Every Monday, she handed out a list of spelling word on a narrow sheet of paper. The idea was to study off the list all during the week for the test on Friday. My memory is unclear if I was the only student involved, or if my little pal, possibly named Amanda, was also caught. The cheating was accomplished by rolling the receipt sized list, putting in my desk, and sneaking glances. Someone saw it, and turned me, or us, in.
Although this is a standerd tale in many ways, the wrinkle for me is the reason I cheated. When I was being born, I lost oxengen for a short time and suffered some mild brain damage. Although by second grade I was out of the leg braces and casts that had been prercribed to lenthen my achelle's heel, I still had trouble with spelling and math; anything that was more rote memory based. I would study so very hard all week, alone and with my parents, and still do poorly on the test come Friday.
When I was caught, I got a stern talking to my Miss Grinsey, and my parents were notified. I don't know how many weeks it had gone on. I would guess only a few. I was ashamed, because I only wanted to make my teacher and parents proud. When I got home, my parents taught me one of the most important values of my childhood. They were upset, but knowing that I had always done my best, they made it clear that my best was all that cared about. Cheating was unacceptable, but if I worked hard and my best was not an A or B, then that was okay.
Mrs. Brooks, end of 3rd and 4th grade - I went to three schools in third grade. My dad was transfered from CT to WA, and we moved from an apartment into navy housing after that. Mrs. Brooks was the perfect teacher in a school that was over 90% kids from military families, because her husband was retired Navy. She knew what it was like to move all the time and have a daddy (it was a sub base so very few mommies) who was gone six months out of the year. The tradition in her classroom was to have a little Christmas celebration on the 25th of each month, because she knew so often our families celebrated holidays early or late when the whole family was there. She was a trained folk story teller, so what I remember of those "Christmases" was the class sitting on the floor with the lights dimmed while she told us a story. I don't remember most, but clearly remember crying at the little match girl, because she freezes to death at the end.
What Mrs. Brooks gave me that changed my life is acknowledgment of my learning problems, however slight they were. I tested high on reading comprehension, but spelling remained my nightmare. Math was more of a challenge for me than most of my classmates. I got some special testing and help, which must have worked, but I don't remember anything about it. I do remember Mrs. Brooks telling me that different parts of the brain are involved in the things I was good at then the things I had trouble with. Whatever methods where used that year worked. By the end of fourth grade, I was becoming the book-worm I am today. My lifelong love affair with the written word was solidified with books like the Borrowers, the Boxcar Children series, and many others checked out of the library at Cougar Valley Elementary.
Mr. Turner, 8th grade pre-Algrbra - I had taken pre-algebra level math in sixth and seventh grades. When we moved from Hawaii to Silverdale, WA, it was already October. I hated math, because I didn't get it. I got reading oriented classes, but I could only tread water in math.
Mr. Turner was the first math teacher I ever had that taught for the math-dumb kids like me. He spent the whole class period at the dry erase board, doing problem after problem. An hour of that was so boring. I admit to having written many letters and poems in that class, because the math did not interest me.
But eventually I got it. And more important, I got that I had to be shown over and over. I wasn't going to pick up how to solve an equation like I pick up the plot of a book. It didn't even make me dumb, maybe slightly below average in math, but I could learn it. I don't think I ever really loved math, but it felt really good feeling capable of math.
I don't know if I got an A that year, but I moved up to Algebra in 9th grade, where I did get an A.
Mrs. Fenton - 8th grade, English and History - My first day in Mrs. Fenton's class she unknowingly influenced my life. It was October and my family had moved a month into the school year. At Ridgetop Junior High School, English and eight grade US history were taught as a "block"; two hours together, same teacher, same classmates. Ours fell third and fourth period, with lunch in between. When it came time for lunch, Mrs. Fenton asked a reliable student to take me to the cafeteria, and show me how things worked. Renee was a shy, smart, hardworking student. It happened that we lived in the same apartments, so in addition to eating lunch together each day, we walked home from school together. We are still friends today.
Oddly, the other influences Mrs. Fenton had on me were decidedly negative. Her class was out of control, and her teaching pandered to the lowest preforming students. By the time I reached her class, she had stopped assigning chapters from the history text as homework, because the vast majority of the class was not doing it. Instead, she had each student read a paragraph aloud in class. This reading would take the bulk of the class time for a mere two pages of text, then we would answer the five questions at the end of the lesson. I went round and round on a regular basis with Mrs. Fenton, because I stubbornly refused to follow along with the class during the reading. I would read the text and answer the questions, throughly and in complete sentences, in fifteen or twenty minutes. When finished, I never bothered the class, but did my math homework, wrote, or read my own book. I would be scolded when it was my turn to read aloud, because I did not know where the class was. "But I'm done," was my reasoning. I was once held after class for not paying attention after I was done when I was totally absorbed in reading Little Women. The fact that I was reading an American classic was completely lost on her.
Worse, it was in her classes that I was ceaselessly pick on, tortured really. Five or six of the boys found me an easy target. I was verbally teased, but also poked with pencils and had chairs pulled from under me. By early spring, I dreaded going to school. I finally did have enough and went to Mrs. Fenton after class. She may not have known the full extent of the abuse, but when I asked for help, she said, "you say things back to them." And refused to do anything at all. I did get my help by telling my mom what was happening. We went to the school counselor. The problem was taken very seriously. I may have never had a problem with those boys again, but I was certainly changed because of the things she allowed to go on in her classroom.
Mrs. Gunterman, 9th grade English and Journalism - The first half of the year in Mrs. Gunterman's class, we read Romeo and Juliet, wrote a research paper, and had a creative writing unit, among other things. The second half of the year, we put out a newspaper for our junior high school.
I loved Romeo and Juliet, especially because Mrs. Gunterman taught well, having it read dramatically and letting the class in on the "jokes" that were obvious to everyone when the play was new. Partly to help us understand the era, we were to write research papers on a topic from the middle ages. I wrote about Martin Luther.
The creative writing unit influenced me most. I went from a constant reader and letter writer with an interest in writing, to having actual skills to write poems. I think we must have written short stories, but I don't remember mine if we did. I did write many poems, and several very good poems. From that point on, I wrote poems about everything. As with all writing, much of it was bad, but having that creative outlet was invaluable for me.
One of the tools Mrs. Gunterman used to teach us to write poetry was having each student memorize a classic poem. I learned Longfellow's The Tide Rises, The Tide Falls. I could still recite it if I need to.
I did enjoy the journalism portion of the class. I was able to work closely with Renee. We both loved the idea of journalism. Neither of us were popular enough to be voted into an editorial position, but when it came to putting the paper to bed, we were some of the few able and willing to stay after school to get the job done. The school had brand new software called Microsoft Publisher. Our teacher and class learned and taught each other, with many mistakes and system crashes. (I would toss my computer off a bridge if it locked up as often as those mid-90's machines did.)
Before this class, I considered journalism a possible future career. After, not so much. I loved creative and personal writing, but learned that journalism has a different purpose, and I wasn't interested in it. Renee, however, found a passion. Today she holds a post graduate degree in Journalism from Washington State University.
Teachers from Kent-Meridian High School
Ms. Bush, Multi-cultural lit - My junior year, I took three English classes. I loved it. Multi-cultural lit was a tough reading class that Ms. Bush created and taught. We read books from various ethnic groups in the US. We talked and debated about the issues in each book in class. We read more books than I remember, but the three I did are books and authors that I am devoted to. Anyone who introduces me to three great books, and helps me understand more about them, is a major influence in my life. Those books are: The Handmaid's Tale, by Margaret Atwood; The Joy Luck Club, by Amy Tan; and The Lone Ranger and Tonto Fistfight in Heaven, by Sherman Alexie. Look 'em up, they are awesome.
Mr. Brush, poetry workshop and senior English - Mr. Brush was a legend at K-M. He'd been teaching there since the 60's, worked as a bartender in Seattle on the weekends, and was an honest to gosh published writer, but you never heard it from him. The first class I took with him was poetry workshop, second semester of my junior year. The requirements where that we kept a journal, turned in at least five rough poems a week, and two finished. Most class periods, he handed out photocopied sheets of poems, quotes for epigraphs, or ideas of types of poems to try.
One big focus of his when editing our rough poems that suck with me is "be specific". My favorite example in one of my poems was the suggestion to use the name of a candy bar, rather than saying "candy bar" in my poem called "postcards". It was about a road trip my family took when I was 15, stopping at a gas station, and buying a postcard with a scene I'd never seen.
When I was a senior, I had Mr. Brush only for second semester English. By that time, I was working full time, or close to it, at Payless Shoe. I had realized that I only needed one P.E. credit, so I don't care about getting grades in the rest of my classes. Not long into the class, Mr. Brush called me up to his desk, because I hadn't turned in any essays. He asked, "Do you need this class to graduate?" I told him no. He asked if I was reading the books, and I was. I participated in class, even, so he was understanding that I didn't care.
We read some really great books that semester. It was the first time I read Cather in the Rye. We read Kafka's short story Metamorphosis and Grendel, a novel based on Beowulf from the monster's view.
Hi Tina! How appropriate that my first comment to your blog is to an entry that I'm mentioned in.
Wow, this entry sure brought back some memories. Needless to say, I loved Mrs. Gunterman's class and she remains one of my favorite teachers as well. I remember when the first issue of the school paper came out and how excited we were, only to find that neither of our articles were published! HA! Looking back, I think hers was the only class I really enjoyed and looked forward to...that goes for junior high as a whole. I can't believe you can still recite that poem! I'm impressed. I remember having to learn it...does that count for anything?
And Mrs. Fenton's class? I have some not-so-nice memories there as well (interestingly, though, I couldn't recall her name until your post). But at least there was one incredibly bright spot out of it all - meeting you of course.
This commenting thing is fun, I should try it more often.
Reply to this
It works that you are still in school. Maybe if I start college, you'll finish. "Someday."
You should not only comment, you could start a blog.
Love ya!
Reply to this