"Post-digestive- nuggets"  Erimitus
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Joined: Jun 2009 |
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| When you were a student, who was your best teacher? | |
bob_the_fisherman
Anatidaephobic
| My education was a rather tawdry affair, with some extremely violent and... unpleasant teachers. However, there were two teachers who stood out.
I had an English teacher who didn't try to learn me gooder English, but started trying to learn me German instead (apparently my English was alredy orsum). In hindsight, he saw that I was going to be disruptive and sought to disarm me by challenging me with something out of left field. It worked well. As a teacher, you find the potentially hostile Alphas and get them onside ASAP. Still, I appreciated the fact that he did what he did.
The other was also an English teacher. He ignored my outbursts of bad behavior and let me do my own thing and encouraged me to write. He even published one of my stories in the school paper.
The reason they were good teachers was because they looked beyond my negative behavior to the kid behind it and tried to encourage the positive in me. They were also able to show a sense of humor. |
bob_the_fisherman
Anatidaephobic
| This thread bombed quicker than someone yelling allahu akbar on the street...
Surely I'm not the only good teacher  |
Jennifer1984
Returner and proud
| I had a number of very good teachers who helped me tremendously and I appreciated them all, but perhaps the one who impressed me most with her determination to not let me fail was the tyrannical Miss Nobbs who taught English Language.
When I started at senior school (ages 11-16 here) I didn't care much for English. I'd decided (as you do at 11) that I could read and write well enough to get by. I'd decided that I liked sciences and that was what I was going to do.
That wasn't good enough for her though. I wasn't reaching her standard and she believed I could do better.
For some reason - I can't imagine why - she thought I was over-wordy. I can't imagine what made her think that. My spelling was poor and I overused exclamation marks ('shriek marks' she called them). She also didn't like my habit of using inexplicable individual punctuation styles.... She pointed these things out to me in class, but I didn't listen. Still short of my 12th birthday, apparently I knew what was best for me.
Miss Nobbs was having none of that.
Matters came to a head on parent/teacher evening towards the end of my first year. As we went from teacher to teacher, they all said glowing things about me, especially Mr Diffey, who taught physics and was the loveliest man in the world. As eccentric and absent minded as only a British physics teacher can be, but with sadness and tragedy in his life after his wife died from breast cancer. His personal sorrow touched every girl in the school. We were all so sad for him. But we also truly loved him for the wonderful person and exceptional teacher he was. But I digress.
Miss Nobbs (known to all the girls as "Old Nobbo" despite her being the youngest of all the teachers at my Alma Mater) kept dad and myself back until last. When we eventually got to see her, all the other parents and girls had left so she had us alone.
That was when she ripped into dad.
I was NOT achieving the standard I was capable of and should be attaining. In her inestimable opinion it was because I wasn't working hard enough. I was capable of doing much better and she was going to personally see to it that I did.
I would be set extra homework and, she informed father, it was his responsibility to see to it that I set sufficient time at home to ensure I did it. This wasn't a request, it was an order. She was quite withering. I'd never seen him intimidated by anybody before. I was as shocked as he was.
And then she did something that impressed me greatly and altered my outlook on school tremendously. She turned directly to me and said "I will not give up on you, Jennifer."
She was as good as her word. I was bombarded with extra work.
My response to this was to get stuck in. It wasn't that I was scared of her, but she'd impressed me with her personal dedication to my education. She had to teach Eng Lang to the entire student body, but she made ME a personal priority. She'd made a declaration of commitment to ensure that I did better.
I overcame all my faults and foibles. Old Nobbo's ruthless red pen missed nothing.
When our GCSE results came through and I got an A she was genuinely pleased. She said "Well done Jenny." It was the first time she ever called me Jenny rather than Jennifer. That meant a lot.
She's still at good old BHS, dinning Eng Lang into the sometimes non-receptive ears of adolescent girls. I see her when I go back for Old Girls Association meetings and we're very good friends now. She's never forgotten that parent / teacher meeting and we laugh about it. She told me that the look on dad's face when she gave him a piece of her mind was priceless.
My spelling's improved, although I have reverted to being wordy. Oh, and the irritating grammatical idiosyncrasies are back. But they're just me. Call it a post education act of defiance.... an expression of individuality.
Those who complain about my writing style know this. You'll never change me. A better woman than you tried hard. Very, very hard.
I love her and respect her greatly. A first class teacher and a very good friend. |
chaski
Stalker
| Hmmm.... best teacher....
#1 - I had a coach once. The game was at a critical point. It was my decision what to do. I called "time out". I went to the sidelines and asked the coach what to do... what "play" to call. He asked me a series of questions about the situation and variables. I answered his questions. Then he said, "So, what are you going to do?"
I looked at him for a moment. Almost stunned. This was an "important" decision, and he was putting the decision back onto me.
I said, "Right. Got it."
#2 - My Grandfather taught me how to be a "man".
#3 - My father taught me to "never do anything unless you a prepared for the consequences, and if you do "it" be prepared to accept the consequences".
#4 - My mother taught me about grace, class, style... and most important compassion.
#5 - My grandmother taught me how to cook, and how to be grounded in this f__ked up world.
#6 - and a little kid, a year or so younger than I, many many years ago taught me how not be a bully. (Yeah, I know, I can be a jackass her on TFS... but, believe it or not, not in the real world.)
Oh... and best academic teacher... as in school... my English Composition teacher, senior year in high school. |
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Your best teacher
February 20, 2019 @ 08:55:46 pm
