Dear 9th Grade English Teacher,
Nothing about her was traditional. I would say that is what I loved most about her, but that would be a lie.
What I love most about her is that 25 years later, I can still inhale deeply and smell her classroom- a blend of old books and Maxwell House coffee. Yes, it is true, like a home, every teacher's classroom has a distinct smell but even more vivid than the smell is the way she made me feel.
Describing the way she made me feel in words is tough. The best I can come up with, which is still grossly inadequate, is that she made me feel like I was sipping a warm cup of chicken noodle soup on a freezing cold day during flu season. My flu was being an awkward fourteen year old- unsure of my body, high school, and life in general. At that purgatory age of half child/half woman, I longed to blend in with the beige walls of my classroom and go unnoticed for the next four years of my life, but I soon discovered a teacher who plasters Metallica posters on those boring, beige walls, isn't going to let a shy and backwards 14 year old girl go unnoticed. She called on me frequently. I hated it, but I needed it. She was a perfect mixture of funny but blunt.
She wore these dresses, only they weren't really dresses, they were more like floral, faded coverings, drapes, if you will. And every freshman knew about her "booger green shoes." She told us it wasn't fair for teachers who were having a bad day to pop off at kids without warning. Her warning was wearing booger green shoes. From the start, she told us if we saw her walk in wearing those horrible shoes, we were not to mess with her that day. We never did.
I think this year every teacher in America needs a pair of booger green shoes.
For 180 days she held our hands through Romeo and Juliet, locker combinations, research papers, and freshmen breakups.
My favorite line from her, although it is tough to narrow it down, was when she said, "I didn't get a chance to grade your research papers this weekend. I ran into some technical difficulties....I didn't want to." Goodness, I have used that line so many times.
My second favorite thing she ever said to me was in front of the whole class. "Carrie Stewart," she said, "I know you aren't going to like this one bit, but I am about to read your short story to the whole class aloud. You can sit in here while I read it or you can step outside if it is too embarrassing. Either way, I am reading it because this is about the best, dang short story I have read in 30 years of teaching, and your classmates need to hear it."
Needless to say, I darted out the door, but I didn't go far. With my ear pressed up to that wooden barrier listening to her read my words aloud, I was already clutching my Pulitzer Prize. That's what a remarkable teacher has the ability to do- to make a pimply-faced teen feel like she's won a Pulitzer Prize.
My third favorite thing she used to say was at dismissal before the end of each long break. I am willing to bet anyone in the Blue Eagle class of 1998 can still recite it. As the bell was ringing she would yell out, "Don't come back drunk, diseased, or pregnant." I am not sure everyone heeded to her advice but at least she tried.
A few years ago, I heard she passed away. My heart tore half in two when I heard the news. The funeral was over before I even knew she was gone. I don't even know where she is buried, but if I find out, I plan to pay my respects and place my imaginary Pulitzer Prize beside the plastic floral arrangement. I might even include a thank you note. It will say, "Thank you for teaching me how to read, write, teach, and for the chicken noodle soup."
Teachers, I know this year has about done you in for good. Teaching certainly isn't what it was in the 90's, but I hope, in spite of it all, you will keep trying because I promise students never forget a teacher who wears booger green shoes.
Will you dig deep today and be a Barbara Johns to someone?
-CDB