It’s easy to remember the bad teachers. The ones who wouldn’t give us a break no matter how hard we tried. The ones who told us in Middle School we’d never graduate college. The ones who wouldn’t explain what you’re doing wrong no matter how many times they gave you a ‘D’ for an assignment despite seeing your honest best attempts at the damned thing. Oh yeah, it’s almost impossible to forget the bad teachers.
But it’s not the bad teachers that define us, is it? Despite the fact that their declaration of predicting your failure might have been the fuel you needed to prove them wrong, it is not the same definition of soul as having a teacher that truly believes in you.
I’ve only had two that made a point of saying they believe in you. Or rather, showing they believe in you. Because this isn’t the Disney Channel. This is real life. But teachers can totally be as awesome as Mr. Feeny and make as great of an impact on you as he did for Corey, Tapanga and the rest of the class of Boy Meets World.
For me there were two teachers.
Mr. Loinsberry of the Fourth Grade just made learning so much fun! He made use feel like there wasn’t anything we couldn’t do, while at the same time still keeping peace on the playground. I think I learned my sales skills from him. He was teaching us about the trading of the American Fur Trade of the 1600’s and I was the kid who sold the most. There were other memories of him but that was by far my fave.
The other teacher was in high school, English in sophomore year. He was friends with my parents and I thought that was going to be great. In fact I was excited I finally had a class with him. But he pulled me aside the first day of the year after class and said that because he was friends with my parents it wouldn’t be fair to the other kids if he made it easy for me. He said he’d have to be hard on me, but he told me upfront it was because he cared. And you know what? He kept his promise. He wouldn’t let me hand in a bad essay. He would always make me re-write it. And re-write it. And re-write it. And by the end I wanted to resurrect Robert Frost so I could kill him myself. But it taught me a lot about editing. And I know it was that lesson that impacted my writing today.
So I wanna hear from YOU who the teacher was that impacted you the most. Was it a teacher that helped you discover your passion? That made you believe you could graduate? That gave you all the right tools to succeed? Who was your own Mr. Feeny? Share in the comments!