As usual, for me all things relate to Outlander. All of my points of reference lead back to … Outlander. So, I was reading about Jamie’s experiences with his childhood teachers and it got me to thinking about my experiences as a teacher.
I’ve been teaching in a high school for about fourteen years now. That is enough time for teenagers to grow into adulthood and find their place in society. It seems like everywhere I go I run into those adults. This morning alone I had several run-ins with former students.
I was buzzing down the highway headed for an iced coffee when a car passed me and honked its’ horn. I looked over to see two of my former students waving enthusiastically. Then I was greeted by former students in line at the drive-thru , hanging out of car windows , once again, waving enthusiastically. And then…more former students waving from the bank window, gas station, etc. It seems like everywhere I go there are examples of my progeny…waving.
Recently, I entered a local chain restaurant and was greeted by an exclamation of delight, “Hi, Mrs. Wesson! I was just telling everyone that you were the best English teacher I ever had! No, really you was!” I acknowledged the dubious honor and sadly walked to my table.
Teaching has its’ rewarding moments. but then there are those moments like the restaurant greeting. These moments are rewarding in their own way and difficult to forget. For instance, the demands I never pictured myself uttering in an English class like; “please put away the bag of false mustaches” or “please unplug your curling iron and plug my computer back in” or “please put your breast back in your bra” (it was opposite sex day…pep week…I don’t know why…lots of discoveries made that day).
One of my favorite hard to forget moments happened during my first year of teaching. School policy mandated that a student you were disciplining must arrive at the office with a note explaining the offense. This day I had an incident with a large boy (who I THINK was kidding around) frightening a smaller boy. They were just goofing around when big boy suddenly grabbed little boy around the neck and placed him under his arm. It became obvious to me that little boy was frightened because of the large amount of white surrounding his pupils and the peculiar shade of blue red his face was turning. I asked big boy to let go. He did not, so I demanded,”Let go of him!” He did not, so I whipped out my handy-dandy discipline notepad. “Write the note and the kid dies” proclaimed big boy. I quickly wrote the note handed to him and said, “Go to the office!” Big boy let go of little boy and then…ate the note.
After a moment or two of shocked silence, I wrote a note to send with a different student to take to the office that explained that I had written a previous note, but that big boy had eaten it and would they please come get him? Now, despite my listing these slightly negative memories, I would have to say overall, I enjoy teaching. I would like to think that my students will have better memories of me than Jamie did of his teachers. I would like to think I’m making a difference. I would like to have students that don’t eat notes.