Memoir

Educational Memoir

I have always wanted to be a teacherÐ'...even before I knew I wanted to be one. My dad would always tell me that I was meant for something bigger than what he was. He was a mechanic. He told me that with my smarts and abilities, I could be an architect, working in an air-conditioned office where my biggest danger was closing my hand in a filing cabinet. So from an early age, I thought I wanted to be an architect (even though I did not know what an architect was), all the while I would sit in class and think to myself during the lesson, "I could do a WAY better job of this!" I often got stuck with those teachers; the teachers that everybody prays all summer long that they do not get; yeah, those teachers. Funny thing about those teachers, I remember them; I remember their classes, but I do not really remember what it was about them that made them one of those teachers.

In the third grade, I had Mrs. Lopez. All I heard from other kids on the play ground was, "Man, I am glad that I didn't get Mrs. Lopez" or "Mrs. Lopez is the meanest teacher in the whole school". Maybe it's just me, but when a teacher volunteers to sharpen all of your pencils before class starts, it is a generous gesture uncommon to those teachers. Mrs. Lopez was the first (or at least the most significant) example of a teacher whose heart was focused on serving others. What made her one of those teachers, I could not tell you.

Mr. Williams, fifth grade, however, is a prime example of what not to do (O.K., so I do remember what made him one of those teachers). That year, I was in a split class of fourth and fifth graders and Mr. Williams could hardly get the lessons straight. I often found myself repeating work I had done the year before. In his confusion, he must have forgotten to teach us what prepositions were for. (Please note: I am fully aware that I ended my previous sentence with a preposition, but did not learn that it was bad grammar to do so until the sixth grade). We (the class) were working on our grammar assignment and I called Mr. Williams over to explain what prepositions were to me. His response to me was, "I can't tell you because if I did, your parents would be mad at me, the principal would be mad at me. I am not here to give you answers." WHAT THE?!? Apparently Mr. Williams did not get the memo that he was actually supposed to teach me something. Luckily for me, my father was very strong in English and grammar and was able to help me, and he didn't even get mad when he gave me the answers. It was in Mr. Williams' class that I really began picturing myself as a teacherÐ'...one that actually taught!

Following fifth grade, my connections to teachers began to dwindle. I was in junior high now and was only spending forty minutes a day rather than all day with my teachers. This was definitely a transition time for me and my approaches to learning. One teacher, however, stands out, even to this day, as being one of my most influential teachers, Mrs. Watkins. Oh boy, did she have the reputation as being one of those teachers. She did not tolerate immaturity and disrespect in her classroom in any way, shape, or form. She was mean when she had to be, but was very selective on who she directed it toward. I saw everyone else screw up in her class and learned what not to do to keep her off my case. As a result, I was one of her good kids, at least in her eyes. She taught both math and science, which are my strong suits anyways, but she managed to bring it into the classroom in a way I had not seen before. It was in her class where I got my first taste of teaching. We were learning how to solve equations in algebra and I, as well as a small group of other students, finished all of our sections ahead of the rest of the class. Since Mrs. Watkins did not have any more material for us, she had us go to all the other groups and teach the rest of the class what we had just learned. It did not really dawn on me until later in my education what Mrs. Watkins was doing. You remember over 90% of what you teach. Mrs. Watkins wanted to make sure that we did not forget what we just learned, so she had us teach it. One of those teachers? Not in my opinion.

High School was the turning