Some Do
There is a picture going around on fb showing a conv btwn some (now grown) students and an old teacher who basically calls one on the carpet for bad English skills. It surprises me the number of friends who remember an English teacher like that, and got me thiinking about my old teachers. One in particular stands out.
I dont remmber her name. She never taught a single one of my classes. My sophmore or junior year though, i spent a lot of time in her room. One of my frinds had her for first period and we used to hang out in her room before school. For me, this was a treasured safe haven - saying i got bullied in school was putting it mildly. She didnt usually interact, grading papers or going over lesson plans, but her presence alone kept the tormenters at bay.
It was spirit week, and one of the days was dedicated to dressing like the opposite sex. This was earlier in the week, and she had asked us what our costumes were. I dont remember what my friend responded, but i akwardly responded that i wouldnt. She asked why.
Let me paint the scne. This is a rural southern town. 98% of the population is catholic. I was raised j.w.
I explained, best as i could, that the bible condemed cross dressing and i wouldnt participate. I recall being fairly vehement about it. I was used to being picked on for religious beliefs and didnt like to discuss them.
Im sure in many schools today, id have been branded a bully for that comment. Perhaps had to go through some sort of class on hate speech. In the mid ninetys, in a rural schol of the south, many teachers would have just praised strong religious beliefs....especially as this one wasnt too odd.
Ths teacher did neither. She let me finish my outburst. She neither commended nor condemed my viewpoint. She asked questions - did i plan on wearing a dress instead of my usual jeans? No...these were girls jeans. She reminded me that not so long ago there were no such things. She mentioned kilts. Were those wrong? I found myself having to explain a belief in depth that id never thought about. I dont remember my response...i suspect i stammered out something about being unsure. She told me she was going to intrude on my personal beliefs....i could believe as i liked...then asked me...if someone in the hall was more comfortable in the other genders clothes than their own..how would my outburst make them feel? I could not imagine anyone feeling such a way, and i suspect i told her so. She was extremely serious as she informed me "some do."
Two words. Two little words that mean nothing without the weight of the story behind them. Two words that somehow shook my world to the core. Two words that made me feel like *I* was the bully. Two words that somehow made me realise that those picking on me just didnt understand me - and who could blame them? I barely understood myself. Two words i've carried with me...as a reminder that just because i do not understand, like, or approve of something, some do. And that I need to give them that space, to have that piece of themselves, whether I understand it, or even if they understand it themselves.
I don't remember where the conversation went from there. We never mentioned it again, and it was years before I realized how much of an impact she'd had on me. I have no idea if she's still teaching or not. I realize now how much strength of will it must have taken her to stand up for tolerance in that place, in that time, and take someone's deeply religious-taught child and try to teach them that there was more than one way. I'm deeply indebted to her.
...and yeah, I think she DID teach English courses.
I dont remmber her name. She never taught a single one of my classes. My sophmore or junior year though, i spent a lot of time in her room. One of my frinds had her for first period and we used to hang out in her room before school. For me, this was a treasured safe haven - saying i got bullied in school was putting it mildly. She didnt usually interact, grading papers or going over lesson plans, but her presence alone kept the tormenters at bay.
It was spirit week, and one of the days was dedicated to dressing like the opposite sex. This was earlier in the week, and she had asked us what our costumes were. I dont remember what my friend responded, but i akwardly responded that i wouldnt. She asked why.
Let me paint the scne. This is a rural southern town. 98% of the population is catholic. I was raised j.w.
I explained, best as i could, that the bible condemed cross dressing and i wouldnt participate. I recall being fairly vehement about it. I was used to being picked on for religious beliefs and didnt like to discuss them.
Im sure in many schools today, id have been branded a bully for that comment. Perhaps had to go through some sort of class on hate speech. In the mid ninetys, in a rural schol of the south, many teachers would have just praised strong religious beliefs....especially as this one wasnt too odd.
Ths teacher did neither. She let me finish my outburst. She neither commended nor condemed my viewpoint. She asked questions - did i plan on wearing a dress instead of my usual jeans? No...these were girls jeans. She reminded me that not so long ago there were no such things. She mentioned kilts. Were those wrong? I found myself having to explain a belief in depth that id never thought about. I dont remember my response...i suspect i stammered out something about being unsure. She told me she was going to intrude on my personal beliefs....i could believe as i liked...then asked me...if someone in the hall was more comfortable in the other genders clothes than their own..how would my outburst make them feel? I could not imagine anyone feeling such a way, and i suspect i told her so. She was extremely serious as she informed me "some do."
Two words. Two little words that mean nothing without the weight of the story behind them. Two words that somehow shook my world to the core. Two words that made me feel like *I* was the bully. Two words that somehow made me realise that those picking on me just didnt understand me - and who could blame them? I barely understood myself. Two words i've carried with me...as a reminder that just because i do not understand, like, or approve of something, some do. And that I need to give them that space, to have that piece of themselves, whether I understand it, or even if they understand it themselves.
I don't remember where the conversation went from there. We never mentioned it again, and it was years before I realized how much of an impact she'd had on me. I have no idea if she's still teaching or not. I realize now how much strength of will it must have taken her to stand up for tolerance in that place, in that time, and take someone's deeply religious-taught child and try to teach them that there was more than one way. I'm deeply indebted to her.
...and yeah, I think she DID teach English courses.