Spiritual Sundays: Finding the Positive and Appreciating it

I used to think that a junior high school teacher was to blame for my hatred for math. Until then, math had never been a struggle for me. In fact, it was a subject that I felt very confident about. The assessments I took prior to junior high placed me in the honors pre-algebra class. I was only a few points from Algebra I, but was advised to stay put. So I did.



At the end of the first advisory, I was very surprised to find that I had gotten a C in her class. The day I got my report card, I walked to her classroom on the first floor after school. I think it was room 104, but I'm not sure. I asked her if I could talk to her about my grade, and began to explain to her how I had calculated my grade over and over in class, and was sure that averaged a B, with a possible A- from extra credit. After my explanation, she seemed unconvinced. She looked me in the eye, and said "You don't do A work."



I was crushed. I asked her if she would check my grade one more time. She walked to her desk, checked the gridded grading book and confirmed that she had been correct.



It was a long bus ride home. I had never gotten a C in my life. I was disappointed in myself. I faced my parents in tears.



When my mother attended the parent-teacher conference, my teacher had a different story to tell. Apparently, she had read the grids in her grading book wrong. My grade was supposed to be a B. My mother relayed this to me and my grade was changed. When I returned to school, my teacher asked me if my mother had talked to me. She never apologized.



I still remember it as if it happened yesterday.



As I begin my student teaching, I often reflect on what makes an effective teacher. I think of my past teachers and the positive and negative influence they had on me. I find myself visiting classrooms and making phone calls to the teachers who uplifted me along the way. I wish I did it more- it is important to me that they know how they affected me.



There is also much to be said about teachers like my math teacher. I learned two valuable lessons from her: don't stand for less than you deserve and always, ALWAYS work hard. I will spend the rest of my life proving my math teacher's words and the words of others like her wrong. I will always take pride in my work because I work hard.



Last week, I decided to find her. I sat in front of a Google Search Engine and entered her last name and my school (Students seldom ever remember their teacher's first names, I imagine). Years ago, I had unsuccessfully tried to find her. This year, a death notice was the first thing to pop up. Sure enough, my teacher had passed only a couple months before.



She had worked as a high school math teacher for 26 years. Then she worked as a college professor before she retired. She must have missed it- she returned for six years before finally retiring again a year after I was in her class.



A part of me wishes I could tell her how her words affected me. I wanted to thank her for the lessons, and tell her that I forgive her for the way in which she taught them to me. I wanted to tell her that I was an aspiring educator, and that in some way, she had helped me understand that the field of education is where I belong. But, just as life has a way of reminding us that everything happens for a reason, I like to believe that the sentiment reached her, somehow.



Peace to my junior high school pre-algebra teacher. And thanks, for all you were to me.