Writer's Block: Most inspiring teacher
This may be long. You are warned.
When I was in 8th grade my home room teacher and social studies teacher made a huge impact on my life. He had been the gifted enrichment program teacher I was involved in in 7th grade and I loved him from the start. I was so glad when I found out I was going to be in E-109 for 8th grade. He is the reason I am a teacher today.
He was always there for me, always listened to me, and encouraged me. In 8th grade the group of friends I had made, suddenly turned on me. They left me a note one day at lunch telling me to go away and never come back. I was devastated. This entered me into my first real depression, something that I have struggled with since then and that was 20 years ago. I remember so much about that time, how unhappy I was, how I felt unloved, hated, ugly, scared, lost. I stopped going to school as much as possible, and when I did, I refused to go to the cafeteria. I hid under a stairwell or in the bathroom.
My mom threatened sending the truant officer on me. I was so depressed, I hurt. I couldn't get out of bed. I couldn't do anything. I tried to kill myself. I had no friends, no support system, no anything. I wanted to die.
Eventually I was busted hiding out in the bathroom and was forced to sit in with the guidance counselor at lunch. For the first few weeks I refused to talk and then finally I just gave in. I just wanted to be left alone and I figured the sooner I talked the sooner I'd be left alone. But the person I really talked to was Mr. P. He was the one I confided in. He was the one who would stay after school and listen to me and was my shoulder to cry on as I tried to get back on track.
I found a few friends to go back to the cafeteria and sit with, other kids who were outcasts and made fun of now that I think of it. But that isn't the point . . . .
Mr. P was the one who listened, cared, and inspired me to be a teacher. He was the example of the kind of person I wanted to be like, caring, a good teacher who was dedicated to his job and was learned in his subject. he challenged his classes, and challenged me to think outside the box. He introduced me to historical literature. He made me think.
When we went to D.C for February vacation he took care of me, since I had never been away from home for so long without my family and I had never been on a plane. He let me wear his hat when it poured so hard and I didn't have a scrap of dry clothes.
When the gifted program went to NYC, even though we were running late, he still (paid off I think) got the bus driver to take us by Strawberry Fields. Just for me. The rest of the school year went relatively ok. I reconciled with my best friend.
The day before school got out I got in a fight with another student. She tried to strangle me, but I won the fight. I should have been suspended. I think someone pulled some strings.
Unfortunately the story doesn't have a happy ending. A few weeks into the next school year an article was was published in the local paper that he had been charged with sexual misconduct on a student. I never saw him again. I never found out what happened. I still have no idea. No one would tell me, or no one knew. I don't know. It still bothers me. It still makes me angry/confused/sad.
However, it has not changed me from wanting to be the best teacher I can be. If one student looks back and thinks that I changed their lives or appreciated how I influenced them then all of this job searching and trying and trying again is worth it. At least I hope it is.
When I was in 8th grade my home room teacher and social studies teacher made a huge impact on my life. He had been the gifted enrichment program teacher I was involved in in 7th grade and I loved him from the start. I was so glad when I found out I was going to be in E-109 for 8th grade. He is the reason I am a teacher today.
He was always there for me, always listened to me, and encouraged me. In 8th grade the group of friends I had made, suddenly turned on me. They left me a note one day at lunch telling me to go away and never come back. I was devastated. This entered me into my first real depression, something that I have struggled with since then and that was 20 years ago. I remember so much about that time, how unhappy I was, how I felt unloved, hated, ugly, scared, lost. I stopped going to school as much as possible, and when I did, I refused to go to the cafeteria. I hid under a stairwell or in the bathroom.
My mom threatened sending the truant officer on me. I was so depressed, I hurt. I couldn't get out of bed. I couldn't do anything. I tried to kill myself. I had no friends, no support system, no anything. I wanted to die.
Eventually I was busted hiding out in the bathroom and was forced to sit in with the guidance counselor at lunch. For the first few weeks I refused to talk and then finally I just gave in. I just wanted to be left alone and I figured the sooner I talked the sooner I'd be left alone. But the person I really talked to was Mr. P. He was the one I confided in. He was the one who would stay after school and listen to me and was my shoulder to cry on as I tried to get back on track.
I found a few friends to go back to the cafeteria and sit with, other kids who were outcasts and made fun of now that I think of it. But that isn't the point . . . .
Mr. P was the one who listened, cared, and inspired me to be a teacher. He was the example of the kind of person I wanted to be like, caring, a good teacher who was dedicated to his job and was learned in his subject. he challenged his classes, and challenged me to think outside the box. He introduced me to historical literature. He made me think.
When we went to D.C for February vacation he took care of me, since I had never been away from home for so long without my family and I had never been on a plane. He let me wear his hat when it poured so hard and I didn't have a scrap of dry clothes.
When the gifted program went to NYC, even though we were running late, he still (paid off I think) got the bus driver to take us by Strawberry Fields. Just for me. The rest of the school year went relatively ok. I reconciled with my best friend.
The day before school got out I got in a fight with another student. She tried to strangle me, but I won the fight. I should have been suspended. I think someone pulled some strings.
Unfortunately the story doesn't have a happy ending. A few weeks into the next school year an article was was published in the local paper that he had been charged with sexual misconduct on a student. I never saw him again. I never found out what happened. I still have no idea. No one would tell me, or no one knew. I don't know. It still bothers me. It still makes me angry/confused/sad.
However, it has not changed me from wanting to be the best teacher I can be. If one student looks back and thinks that I changed their lives or appreciated how I influenced them then all of this job searching and trying and trying again is worth it. At least I hope it is.