My sixth grade teacher wasn’t particularly interested in math. I’m not sure she was particularly interested in any subject; her lectures were short and our busywork assignments long.
She returned our graded math papers, assigned more busywork to everyone, and then asked those who had done well on the returned papers to come to the board to help individuals whose scores were low on those same papers. Day after day, I held my barely-passing grade in my hand and wondered why she never assigned me to a private tutor. I didn’t know what I was doing and would sink farther behind if I didn’t understand it soon.
Not wanting to question my teacher’s motives, I discussed this with my father. He offered to help at home, and explained that I was probably borderline as far as my grades were concerned, so the teacher hadn’t noticed my struggle. He thought I should let her know so she would understand that I needed attention in class.
I bravely explained my situation to the teacher and her response stuck with me for the next thirty years. “Girls who look like you don’t have to worry about math because men eventually take care of them,” she said, and sent me back to my desk without help.
After that, I not only had questions about math, I questioned everything I thought I knew, and everything I did. Did I get the solo in the concert because of how I looked, or because I earned it with my music? Had my appearance influenced the amount of time my Grandmother spent with me? Maybe it wasn’t the fact that I enjoyed the same hobbies and talked about things that interested her, and it was only because I looked more like her than the others. Would everyone still love me if I looked different?
More importantly, did I purposely use my looks to get what I wanted?
That last question haunted me for years and influenced my decisions to the point that I appeared confused to others. One day I was a model, sporting high-fashion clothes and make-up, and the next I was in jeans and a tee shirt with no make-up and stringy hair. At times, I wore suits and heels to work, and on other days, I dressed down, covering my clothes with a lab coat, constantly proving to myself that the same people would notice and appreciate my work either way.
Or, maybe I wanted to know that I would love me either way.
Eventually, I matured and realized that a single, bitter, middle-aged woman had delivered that message to a twelve-year-old girl. Her comment caused me to hate numbers, but encouraged me to examine who I was and who I wanted to be, which might have been the more important lessons.
I wavered between thinking that woman was the worst and best teacher I had and finally decided she was both. Sometimes, we learn the most through a negative experience.
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Comments: 33
Thanks, everyone. Bongo, I look like my icon, only thirty years younger and without shoes. I hope all of you will join. This is my first Gather contest and I only entered because I thought I had an interesting story to tell. Winning would be nice, but sharing is the important part with this story.
When I turned 17 my dad told me he wasn't paying for college, because I would just go out, get married, and have babies. He thought it would be a waste of money. I did just that, quit school, got married, and had babies. Three husbands, four kids, and a ton of working on myself later, I'm back in school and earning my degree in Theology.
" I look like my icon too. Some day, somewhere, I'll tell the tale of how I got my icon."
Such cute legs, too.
Sorry Sandy, don't be jealous because there's no competition regarding chests and boobs. I am totally attracted only to one thing and that is the frog's pretty legs. Forget his lovely hands and Chopin polonaises.
Teachers are a pain--
and I can't say I had many favorites as they were all pretty much bombs left over from WWII that were just waiting to explode.
Funny, I never had a teacher that caused a strong emotional response in me. I had some that were better than others but none that inspired me or made me hate them.
I had teachers like that, too.... and some who just wanted us to be parrots in class, memorizing the lessons and regurgitating them back, block by solid block. I will always be thankful to the English teacher who fostered my love for reading and taught me to reach far, dream big.
"Her comment caused me to hate numbers, but encouraged me to examine who I was and who I wanted to be, which might have been the more important lessons."
Should this be "which might have been the more important lesson"?
Although "who I was and who I wanted to be" can be read as two individual lessons, thereby requiring the plural, I think I read them as one lesson, so I got stuck on the plural lessons and had to read that sentence several times.
(I know the question mark should technically be inside the quotation mark, but it looked like I was suggesting you need a question mark, so I moved it out.)
I've tried to think of a teacher that has had the most impact on me, and I can't come with a name. I feel like I'm not giving several of my former teachers enough credit, but I cannot come up with a name.
Kat, I hate that the line tripped your reading, and am considering it. I tought of 'who I was' and 'who I wanted to be' as two very different things but agree that the sentence reads better the other way. I am going to sleep on this, and ask others if that bothered them as well. I appreciate that you pointed this out to me.
Bongo, I would like to read the rest of that butter knife story.
Again, I appreciate all of have read and commented.
I put it in a separate comment in case Sandy thought I should get rid of it. Should I? :-)
Great job, Sandy. Ten.
Marilyn
Jennifer, I think my reaction was mixed. I did give up on math, to some extent. I could write an entire article on my math experiences but will skip to the end of the story. My first daughter inherited her father's mathmatical genius, so I slid by until in my mid-forties (managing a job that required a great deal of statistical work). When my younger daughter struggled with an algebra class and I had to hire a tutor, I signed up for an algebra class at the community college. Finally, someone made it all make sense to me. It was so rewarding that I put my logic puzzles (a personal addiction) aside and worked algebra problems for entertainment. The daughter thought I was crazy for a while, but ended up joining me. And she made an A the next semester.
Marilyn, in that teacher's defense, I don't think she had any idea that her statement was mean.
This piece and comments, and other related pieces and their comments, reminds me of one of my favorite quotes about teachers, from John Steinbeck:
"On Teaching"
"It is customary for adults to forget how hard and dull school is. The learning by memory all the basic things one must know is the most incredible and unending effort. Learning to read is probably the most difficult and revolutionary thing that happens to the human brain and if you don't believe that watch an illiterate adult try to do it. School is not so easy and it is not for the most part very fun, but then, if you are very lucky, you may find a teacher. Three real teachers in a lifetime is the very best of luck. I have come to believe that a great teacher is a great artist and that there are as few as there are any other great artists. Teaching might even be the greatest of the arts since the medium is the human mind and spirit.
My three had these things in common. They all loved what they were doing. They did not tell - the catalyzed a burning desire to know. Under their influence, the horizons sprung wide and fear went away and the unknown became knowable. But most important of all, the truth, that dangerous stuff, became beautiful and precious. "
I consider myself lucky enough to have had two--one as a child in fourth grade and one as an adult.
If my daughters hadn't already started their boycotts, I would encourage each of them to write about their favorite teachers. They each had one that epitomized this statement. Not only did those teachers make huge impacts on my daughters, they left eternal marks on my spirit as well. Through them, I learned the opposite of that "I am a total pacifist unless someone hurts my child," phenomenon.
Thanks everyone, for this wonderful discussion.
(I know that sounds paranoid but my feeling about that was validated several years later!)
Luckily once elementary school was past, I landed at a Junior High School that was populated by students from three different elementary schools, so even though my so-called reputation followed me, there were enough new people for me to aquire a few good friends.
I have had two wonderful teachers that totally reshaped my academic life and made be love learning, books, words...I have always felt truly blessed to have known them. They made me see beyond what anyone had ever shown me before then and I say to this day, because of them, I continue to scan the horizon of my mind.
A comment to Kat B about her question mark. Actually outside the quotation is the proper way unless it was actually part of the quotation. Since Sandy was not asking a question in the part you quoted you placed the question mark properly outside the quote.
Finding the Right Words
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