Inasmuch as Albom's book Tuesdays With Morrie was about a great teacher, it also highlighted the inadequacies across a wider segment of the educational population. At approximately the time of Alboms publication, the No Child Left Behind Act was in its infant stages. School districts in Philadelphia and other metropolitan areas like Baltimore struggled to entice young education majors to their cities. For a time, legislators resorted to halting the degree requirement.
Privileged to study with terrific teachers in my lifetime, I have, perhaps, grown accustomed to the extraordinary. There was Tom, the graduate student who led me to the work of Joseph Campbell. And Dr. Jones (Dont call me that, EVER!) the cynical professor who 'converted' me to Islam. I must not forget my religion teacher, the arrogant S.O.B. who got me my first newspaper job. By all means, I owe a debt of gratitude to the man who showed me how to be a woman.
However, Ive suffered at the hands of serious hacks, as well. We all have.
What I propose here today is a discussion on the merits of teaching. What does it take? Who is most equipped? Why do some burn us so badly, while others inspire us to the greatest of heights?
Allow me to elaborate
My brother Alex used to be in love with a girl named Kate Eberwein. I remember her because I was in love with her best friend, Mike Edwards, when I was 14 years old. Kate and Mike were like these otherworldly beings. They were brilliant and funny and wildand everyone in school envied them. Mike was the type of guy who could go an entire semester never reading the book that was the focal point of the course, and, on the last day, give a verbal account of the text that outshined everyone.
Kate was ten feet tall and beautiful. She had incredibly long, dark hair, and the deep intelligence inherent to an author. Literally, she wrote like hell.
I took litmag my sophomore year of high-school, just to be near them. We called our publication The Regretful Eclectic, which to all parties involved seemed a big improvement over the Brown Paper Bag debacle of the year before.
I couldnt believe how talented Mike and Kate both were. Then, as it often happens toward the end of school, people lose track. I never found out what became of Mike after graduation, but Kate wandered back into my life again about five years later. She had graduated from Vassar with a Masters in astronomy. She moved to the United Kingdom where she got engaged to a very distant member of the royal family. Rather than take a job in her field of expertise, she continued graduate school. This time, the obsession was art history.
Let me back up a bit
Dwight Anderson was the astronomy teacher at our high-school in Pennsylvania. He spoke with a poets ear for words, and he routinely took students to his home for field trips, telescopes in hand. There, they made use of the country quiet, of the dark night sky and the open fields. And there he taught the galaxies, the history, the mechanics, the generations.
Kate loved Mr. Anderson with a deep and profound respect, and she followed the track he had started her on all those years ago. She forsook her writing for the stars, and the path led her toart history?!
College, for Kate, revolved around another of those teachers who lights hearts afire. This time, she was impassioned by the works of Monet, Gauguin, Picasso, and Pollak.
Kate is a rare exception when one examines the path of a traditional student in America. Of course, her parents were both professors, so that compounded her romantic love of knowledge in all its varied forms.
What about the kids who dont have it so easy?
I could tell you about my brother, who still swears Kate was the love of his life. I could tell you how his IQ tested off the charts when he was a boy, how it did in subsequent years despite the school districts disbelief, how he did poorly in school his entire life, how he eventually dropped out because, as he said, I was bored.
On many occasions, he blamed morose and uncreative teachers for his seeming ineptitude. In fact, the only one he remembers with any fondness at all is Miss Suvari.
Suvari was a small woman, disfigured by scoliosis, and so robbed of her height and her looks in full. She didnt need a Halloween costume on Oct. 31-- she WAS the scare!
She had the wit and wisdom one often finds in unexpected places. Never married, no social life among her peers, Suvari no doubt spent many an evening alone. Not EVERY evening though, because she always had a weekend wedding of a former student, a baby shower, or an engagement party to attend. Was it her outcast status among her peers that caused her to so identify with adolescents? No one knows. But, she is a legend.
Kindness and warmth are virtues indeed. We all, without a doubt, recall those who have been good to us both in traditional settings and in other endeavors. Those who take the time to go back over a misunderstood point, those who clarify and expand, those who communicate with you in that perfect synergy, in the language that just speaks to your soul - those are the people you remember.
I could talk about Kevin Z. Smith, newspaper editor, writer, teacher, and everything between. I could tell you how he encouraged me in emails and private talks, how he told me not to let anyone else bring me down. I could tell you how others said website writing was a waste, how it was an endeavor God couldn't even make profitable. I could tell you all of that, but it doesnt matter.
In the end, I think we remember less the exactness, less the demeanor of a person, and more of what they said, did, or meant to us in a particular moment.
During my freshman year of college, I had to quit suddenly due to a severe illness. I wasnt sad about it because of the asshole who ran the journalism department. Hed worked at Associated Press bureaus around the world. He taught and ran with the elite. He was the managing editor of the New York Post for awhile. He pushed and prodded, and was mean beyond belief. He threatened to kick students out of the program for being late to class. He said we were an unintelligent, uneducated bunch that had no knowledge of the real world, of its merits, or of its difficulties. I wasnt sorry to tell the bastard goodbye.
A week or so later, he wrote me a letter saying how sorry he was to see me go. He hoped things would turn out okay. You have a big future in this business. Dont let it slip away, no matter what happens.
He took the time. That is what I remember most.
A frequent contributor to online and print publications, Moore is best known for her massive collection of Tom Snyder quotes. "You know the two things I like best about Larry King? His face!" Visit her blog, updated semi-weekly, where she rips on Visa, why the world is the way it is, and other earth shattering topics.
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