The Teacher Who Changed My Life

She was the turning point in my life. She told me what a great story-teller I was instead of what an exaggerator or liar I was. When she looked at me with those soft gray eyes I felt she was seeing inside me and loving me. When she smiled at me, I thought I was the most special person God ever created.

Even after decades, she is still one of my most memorable heroes. Not a day goes by that I don't remember something she taught me, or the look of delight on her face as she talked to me. I remember how she motivated me to rise beyond my environment, to see myself -- for the very first time -- as a uniquely special human being with endless possibilities within my reach.

I remember that I would have done anything to please her because, at a time when I didn't care about myself, there was no doubt in my mind that this woman truly cared about me. She was never too busy (or too self-absorbed) to linger after class and give students a boost of confidence, a warm smile, and even a gentle touch. For many of us, she was our only source of affirmation.

Margaret Oliphant was a teacher!

For as long as I can remember, teachers have been my heroes. I come from a long line of teachers, and while most of them have considered teaching to be a profession, some have viewed it as a "calling."

During The Great Depression, my grandmother left her home at 6:00 a.m. to arrive at the schoolhouse by 6:30. There, she filled the coal heater and heated water for her students. Each student got a good hot breakfast before classes commenced because Grandmother knew children couldn't learn with empty stomachs.

Though times have changed since then, the commitment of a few teachers has not. Meet Guy Dowd, "Teacher of the Year 1987." Guy eats lunch with the students, not in the teachers' lounge, because he wants to know his students. Guy loves being a teacher, loves his students, and sees teaching as a giving of himself, not as a paycheck. He has been known to accompany fatherless football players to the big games, acting as surrogate father during the half-time ceremonies. He asks all his students to sign his yearbook and write a personal note by their names so he won't forget one student! Guy says he "teaches people, not curriculum."

I hear so much these days about the apathy of students. My own mother and sister have complained about their "unmotivated" students. I have a relative, a state-qualified, highly-trained professional, who knows the rudiments of teaching, but is too self-centered to know the rudiments of loving her students. All students, regardless of their ages, need unhurried attention and a knowledge that the teacher really does want to be there. If the teacher would rather be doing something other than teaching, the students will not be motivated to learn.

Who wants to learn anything from someone who doesn't want to be there?

Who learns anything but discontentment from an unhappy teacher?

I have sat in classes and watched teachers lose control, some even terrorizing students as they throw books, music stands, and reading glasses. I've often wondered why our educational system hires so-called "professionals" who must resort to threats and profanity in order to keep students' attention. It is no mystery to me why students no longer have respect for teachers. If students were to act the way some teachers act, they would be expelled from school.

I long for the Margarets of this world who draw pictures in minds: wonderful images that tickle the curiosity, pique imaginations, and cause dreams to implode! I long for the respect teachers earned by their own behavior.

I remember how Margaret's students lusted for knowledge because she motivated us! I remember there were no behavioral problems in her class because Margaret set the tone of the class with her own respectful behavior. We treated her as she treated us: with dignity, respect, and affection. She was able to build character in her students because she had character, herself. (I can't even imagine Margaret screaming, cursing, or complaining about the administration to us! That would be undignified!)
We enjoyed our time with her because she enjoyed being with us. We knew why we were there, and we knew why Margaret was there. It wasn't for a paycheck, benefits, or tenure. She was there for us - just for us.We were her children. We all knew she wanted to be there.

Most of all, I knew Margaret as the teacher who loved me and told me what a wonderful writer I would be someday because of my “very creative” mind. She was the reason I dared to start writing poetry. She was the reason I had confidence. She was the reason I was able to live through the negativity at home. She was the reason I went to school every day. She thought I was special, so I thought I was special.

Oh, how I miss the Margarets of this world.

(c) 1993-2007 April Lorier Perspective