Notes from a messy desk…
Walking with friends among the fall foliage of Kinsmen Park, I’m reminded that it’s September again. The air itself seems to carry a feel of new beginnings, mixed with reflections of autumns past. It’s time for drivers to slow to 30 km/hr in school zones, students and parents to stock up on supplies, and teachers to get back to the business of educating.
Teachers. If we’re lucky, along the journey from kindergarten to grade 12 and beyond, we encounter some who connect with us in ways that leave a positive, lasting impact. Do you recall a special teacher who “got” you; recognized a talent or ability otherwise overlooked; encouraged you? Or maybe just took the time to really listen to something you had to say?
Some comments or events, seemingly insignificant at the time, stay with us as much as major ones. I remember my grade 10 French teacher, not just for the language lessons, but for supplying his classroom with a powerful fan during a terrific heat wave. My brain slows to a crawl in hot weather, and he made it possible to make sense of French. Merci, monsieur.
I liked school, but when it came to teachers, felt fairly invisible. By behaving myself and following the rules, I mostly flew under the radar. Still, there were exceptions.
My grade 3 teacher saw something in me that prompted her to encourage my parents to allow me to move into grade 4. “Acceleration” it was called. I was informed of the move, not consulted. That’s the way it was. That teacher believed in my scholastic abilities, which helped me believe in them too.
In grade 5, a patient music teacher enabled this tone deaf pupil to attain dizzying heights, performing tunes on the recorder for captive family members – and sometimes pets – to this very day.
The high school teacher leading our drama club gave me a part in a stage play, from which I gained enough confidence to seek out the Prince Albert Community Players after graduation, racking up countless great experiences and memories with that group. And, on a “small world” note, I watched and learned from fellow Daily Herald columnist Ruth Griffiths, who was no slouch at acting or directing.
In eleventh grade social studies, our teacher brought a supply of blank bank deposit slips to class, passed them around, and gave a lesson on personal bank accounts. This made an impression on me. I opened my own little savings account, and socked away enough babysitting money to buy a spankin’ new purple 10-speed bike.
I suppose athletics deserve a mention here too. Thank you to every Phys.Ed. teacher I had, for recognizing my pitifulness at sports and not forcing me to train for the Olympics. All those laps around the track, fumbled fly balls, and floor hockey wounds from wooden sticks aka weapons were punishment enough.
One of the most amazing things about teachers is the way they surprise you long after you’ve grown up, by recognizing you at a store, business, or community event. This blows me away every time. It turns out we students weren’t just a sea of faces to them after all. So this month, maybe give a thought to those folks who taught us, and the educators dealing with today’s challenges in our schools.
Oh, and a reminder about school zones, and the fleet of yellow (orange? you decide) buses buzzing around our city. They carry precious cargo.
Lorna Blakeney is an avid writer who enjoys photography, history, travel, and genealogy. She was born and raised in Prince Albert, earned a B.A. from the University of Saskatchewan, likes to walk, and loves coffee shops. Her column appears the first Friday of every month.
