I recently watched the Jeopardy rerun of the Teachers Tournament. I began thinking of favorite teachers.
I remember my first grade teacher, Mrs. Smith, I also remember vividly during the test of writing numbers one through ten, leaning closer to a desk mate to peer at their answer. I wasn't sure how to make an eight.
Thereafter school was a series of different places because my father worked for the power company and we moved from job to job. Finally, when I was going to be in grade four, Dad and Mom found that the burgeoning family would suffer academically (Hah!) unless we settled. So back to our home town we went.
At one point during this same period my brother and I attended Letha School. The folks were renting a farm house that dictated that we attend this small country school. It had four rooms and eight grades. I was in the third/fourth grade room. I remember watching the fourth grade students performing and thinking that I would not have much problem doing the same thing. There was also a Christmas Pageant that year. I got to recite something while holding a sock. Acting was not for me. God meant for me to be the best audience ever.
I was enrolled mid term in Wardwell grade school. That school was built near the turn of the century and the third floor had already been condemned. It was a large three story brick building and had fascinating metal fire escape slides. Never got to have a go at them. I learned my cursive writing in fourth grade, everyone who ever had this particular teacher had the same handwriting. I was left handed and smeared my hand by writing upside down but rounded cursive was the product.
Middle school was two blocks away at Parkview Junior Highschool which had been the original high school where my mother attended until she decided she had benefited enough. My fifth grade teacher was Alice Brownfield. She was in her 40's, brown hair, slender and kind. She taught art and we learned how to draw in perspective. Each day the classes were let out for lunch and we played just across the street in the city park, we built up quit a head of steam. Right after lunch, Mrs. Brownfield would read in her beautiful diction, a chapter from a book to let us run down a little. She read us "Beautiful Joe" and "Black Beauty". She also had us read books from the school library and one of the things she asked was to identify the title of the book within the body of the writing. That is something that has stayed with me ever since. I have always silently cackled 'there you are' when I found the title. Since having my Kindle, I get to highlight it and make a note. I don't know if students nowadays get that kind of single class teaching but if not, they are missing something.
Now about that school library, I had seen the movie "A Tree Grows In Brooklyn" and my heroine was the little girl who was reading the library systemically A through Z. I was not so linear. At that time I was typically enthralled with the horse culture and read anything equine. My favorite author was Glenn Balch, from Idaho, who wrote many horse/kid adventures. I then discovered the kid detective adventures. Nancy Drew and the Hardy Brothers were endlessly fascinating. I read so much that my grades suffered. Someone in authority snitched to my Mom and between them they agreed that I was banned from the library until my grades improved. Ugh.
One time, as a kid, while visiting my Aunt and Uncle in Boise, I found a book to read. It was of all things, "The Bishops Jaegers" by Thorn Smith. I laughed my head off to the point, my aunt asked Mom if I should be reading that thing. My favorite character from the book was Aspirin Lil who used safety pins to keep her sturdy cotton panties in good repair. I did not realize until later that each of the characters stories were connected by their under garments. The book stands up well.
Highschool went merrily along and I graduated with a C + grade and went on to live with cousins in California and found work there.
Fast forward to the mid 70's to my displaced housewife status. I moved back to Idaho and ultimately went to Boise State University to enroll in the Health Records program. It was a two year Associate of Science degree and I felt I had the time and energy to grind it out. Among the many topics I needed to study was Western Civilization. The class was taught by one of the wildest professors I had ever known. He told us the first day of class to tell him what grade we wanted and what we would do in class for that grade. We were all stunned in disbelief. I opted for an A and to do a project. The classes were a joy, we never knew what was coming up. No one read the book because it had NOTHING to do with the class. The prof was interested in crime and criminals. One week it would be Burglary week. Next week it would be sex change week. Since I was working part time in a local medical record department I had been tasked to find a pathology report on a prisoner who routinely swallowed stuff. The pathology report listed the number and quantity of sharp objects found and ended...and a partridge in a pear tree. I decided my project would be to get this guy to come to the class to speak. He did not want to come to the class. Maybe I should have offered something sharp to chew on. I got my A.
I also had to take bonehead English. The tenured professor teaching that class was very superior. Someone asked him about the verb to be and he lectured for a solid 30 minutes on the subject. The entire class was stunned into submission and no one asked him another question for the remainder of the semester.
Education never stops, if it does, you should check your pulse.
I remember my first grade teacher, Mrs. Smith, I also remember vividly during the test of writing numbers one through ten, leaning closer to a desk mate to peer at their answer. I wasn't sure how to make an eight.
Thereafter school was a series of different places because my father worked for the power company and we moved from job to job. Finally, when I was going to be in grade four, Dad and Mom found that the burgeoning family would suffer academically (Hah!) unless we settled. So back to our home town we went.
At one point during this same period my brother and I attended Letha School. The folks were renting a farm house that dictated that we attend this small country school. It had four rooms and eight grades. I was in the third/fourth grade room. I remember watching the fourth grade students performing and thinking that I would not have much problem doing the same thing. There was also a Christmas Pageant that year. I got to recite something while holding a sock. Acting was not for me. God meant for me to be the best audience ever.
I was enrolled mid term in Wardwell grade school. That school was built near the turn of the century and the third floor had already been condemned. It was a large three story brick building and had fascinating metal fire escape slides. Never got to have a go at them. I learned my cursive writing in fourth grade, everyone who ever had this particular teacher had the same handwriting. I was left handed and smeared my hand by writing upside down but rounded cursive was the product.
Middle school was two blocks away at Parkview Junior Highschool which had been the original high school where my mother attended until she decided she had benefited enough. My fifth grade teacher was Alice Brownfield. She was in her 40's, brown hair, slender and kind. She taught art and we learned how to draw in perspective. Each day the classes were let out for lunch and we played just across the street in the city park, we built up quit a head of steam. Right after lunch, Mrs. Brownfield would read in her beautiful diction, a chapter from a book to let us run down a little. She read us "Beautiful Joe" and "Black Beauty". She also had us read books from the school library and one of the things she asked was to identify the title of the book within the body of the writing. That is something that has stayed with me ever since. I have always silently cackled 'there you are' when I found the title. Since having my Kindle, I get to highlight it and make a note. I don't know if students nowadays get that kind of single class teaching but if not, they are missing something.
Now about that school library, I had seen the movie "A Tree Grows In Brooklyn" and my heroine was the little girl who was reading the library systemically A through Z. I was not so linear. At that time I was typically enthralled with the horse culture and read anything equine. My favorite author was Glenn Balch, from Idaho, who wrote many horse/kid adventures. I then discovered the kid detective adventures. Nancy Drew and the Hardy Brothers were endlessly fascinating. I read so much that my grades suffered. Someone in authority snitched to my Mom and between them they agreed that I was banned from the library until my grades improved. Ugh.
One time, as a kid, while visiting my Aunt and Uncle in Boise, I found a book to read. It was of all things, "The Bishops Jaegers" by Thorn Smith. I laughed my head off to the point, my aunt asked Mom if I should be reading that thing. My favorite character from the book was Aspirin Lil who used safety pins to keep her sturdy cotton panties in good repair. I did not realize until later that each of the characters stories were connected by their under garments. The book stands up well.
Highschool went merrily along and I graduated with a C + grade and went on to live with cousins in California and found work there.
Fast forward to the mid 70's to my displaced housewife status. I moved back to Idaho and ultimately went to Boise State University to enroll in the Health Records program. It was a two year Associate of Science degree and I felt I had the time and energy to grind it out. Among the many topics I needed to study was Western Civilization. The class was taught by one of the wildest professors I had ever known. He told us the first day of class to tell him what grade we wanted and what we would do in class for that grade. We were all stunned in disbelief. I opted for an A and to do a project. The classes were a joy, we never knew what was coming up. No one read the book because it had NOTHING to do with the class. The prof was interested in crime and criminals. One week it would be Burglary week. Next week it would be sex change week. Since I was working part time in a local medical record department I had been tasked to find a pathology report on a prisoner who routinely swallowed stuff. The pathology report listed the number and quantity of sharp objects found and ended...and a partridge in a pear tree. I decided my project would be to get this guy to come to the class to speak. He did not want to come to the class. Maybe I should have offered something sharp to chew on. I got my A.
I also had to take bonehead English. The tenured professor teaching that class was very superior. Someone asked him about the verb to be and he lectured for a solid 30 minutes on the subject. The entire class was stunned into submission and no one asked him another question for the remainder of the semester.
Education never stops, if it does, you should check your pulse.
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