As students head back to school this fall, I am drawn to a question that has as many answers as there are individuals of which to ask it. Who was that special teacher who made a difference in your life? Which teacher changed education for you? Who was that teacher who cared about you and went the extra distance for you as a kid?
For me, it was a difficult choice since I had so many great teachers that made school fun, interesting, challenging, and most of all productive, dare I say life changing. For me, Stan Sagosky, Betti Corazzi, Carol Skirchak, Karen Willis and Amelia Dascenzo all come to mind.
Murray Kline, my wood shop teacher, was near the apex as that teacher who kept an eye on me after my Dad passed away in seventh grade. I practically lived in his wood shop during my junior/senior high career. I actually lived with him, or, more correctly next door, in his extra house when I moved home to take a teaching job at Carmichaels.
By today’s standards and practices, Murray would have been a disciple of the school of the modern-day pedagogical icon Harry Wong. (No I am not kidding, that is really his name.) Wong wrote the famous book The First Days of School which many of us cut our teeth on as young educators. I have taken a course or two from Harry and his battle cry was “Procedure! Procedure! Procedure!” Murray was doing these things years in advance of Mr. Wong giving it a name. Truth be told, Murray probably kept me out of jail as a youth or at least from the confines of the detention center.
Frank Pazzynski, professor of Waynesburg College fame, was one of those life-changing educators who made every aspect of living a teaching moment. He made us educators by not taking ourselves too seriously and making education fun. Frank was the teacher who forced me to quit worrying about making an “A” and to truly focus on learning. He demonstrated that learning takes place everywhere you look. For that, I will be forever in his debt.
All these folks have shaped me as a teacher, but they are not the subject upon which I will focus my story. I’ll begin this piece by sharing with you the story of the lady that changed my life back in fourth grade at Mather Elementary School. Her name was Mrs. Thelma Harrison, and she was so far ahead of her time it still amazes me today.
Still, she wore the visage of an “old school” schoolmarm. Mrs. Harrison was one of those older ladies in the teaching profession, nearing retirement, who insisted that her students go outside every day if possible. No matter the falling mercury of the thermometer, Thelma would don her heavy blue wool dress coat, rubber overshoes and plastic rain hat and out we would go into the elements. When kids complained about the cold she simply told them to go run around and get warm.
Thelma encouraged us to bring sleds to school. She was right there with us. She knew we needed to blow off steam so we could focus upon our studies upon returning to the classroom. Often, she insisted on being pitcher for both sides during our daily softball games. We thought she liked softball that much but looking back, she was simply monitoring the pulse of the game, keeping arguing to a minimum.
Each day as we departed the classroom for recess, Mrs. Harrison would pour me a cup of water, place an electric heating rod into my “special mug” and allow a teabag of strong black tea to steep for thirty minutes while we played outside. By the time we returned from the playground the tea was not only piping hot but quite strong as well, almost too strong to drink.
Nevertheless, drink it I did. She added just a hint of honey to strike the bitterness of the heavy concoction. I assumed I was her favorite since she made me my own cup of tea every day. Tea before English class just made sense. Little did I know that her intent was far from my summations. The caffeine content acted as a reversal to the coursing effects of my undiagnosed ADHD.
Mornings were barely tolerable as I trudged through history, math and science. But as a result of Mrs. Harrison’s efforts and patience, English language arts were a true joy, especially the writing aspect. I was a different student in her class because of her magic elixir.
The only thing better than her tea was her praise for a young boy who needed positive reinforcement to tap into the talents that lay hidden beneath the surface. To hear what I had done right rather than another dose of “sit down, sit still and be quiet” would make all the difference.
She never called attention to her efforts nor made me feel conscientious about her methods. She kept up the tea regiment for my entire fourth grade year. Somewhere along the line she decided I could do without the tea infusion, and we began to attempt nominative case pronouns without chemical inducement. It was a glorious success.
In addition to tea therapy, she made me the school postman which worked in tandem with the effects of the tea. Just about the time that I could no longer remain in my seat without vibrating into mid-air, Thelma would announce that it was time to make my rounds.
My appointed route could be inititated near any time of day and was largely dependent on my current state of distraction. I would run from classroom to classroom picking up letters to carry to the post office across the street. Like a blue streak, out the school doors and down the steps I’d fly to the post office.
Of course, I’d have to take the circuitous route through the Liar’s Den and maybe slow up for a chat with its inhabitants. I’d drop the letters in the slot, purchase stamps if necessary, affix postage with limited saliva as I was out of breath.
Most of the teachers told me to keep the two cents change since stamps were thirteen cents in the spring of 1976. Those two cent tips added up over time and stops at Jean and Ruth’s Corner Store for penny candy were of a don’t ask/don’t tell nature as the increased sugar content sort of disrupted Mrs. Harrison’s primary goal.
I am certain I became a writer because of Thelma’s compassion and ingenuity and far thinking vision. I’m pretty sure it’s why I ended up in public education for nearly thirty-five years, as well. I figure it’s not an accident that I spent about half my career as an English teacher as well?
I just wish I had possessed the maturity to properly thank Mrs. Harrison for all she did. By the time I understood such things as chemical compounding, Mrs. Harrison had passed and I was too naive to appreciate the gift I had been given. Thanks Mrs. Harrison! I hope that I might have lent some struggling kid similar support along the way during my teaching days. God bless the Queen of the Coal Patch – Mrs. Thelma Harrison.
So many others seem to have their own special teacher that I thought I’d share a few stories that I’ve run across as I was putting this piece together. Those stories will be shared in next month’s edition. I’d love to hear about your unique experiences. You can reach out to me at alphaomegashootingsolutions@gmail.com
