A parent has the hardest job. Teachers come in at a very close second.
I was a good student… other than my incessant chatter (which undoubtedly earned me the occasional wrist-slapping). I wasn’t a ball-buster or a slacker or a trouble-maker. But there were definitely those kids who liked to push buttons. They tested boundaries and they tested the patience of our teachers. The younger, newer teachers still had a lot of “oomph” and fought back, but some of the older teachers (who shall remain nameless) were worn out and flying the white flag – they surrendered to their obnoxious teenage counterparts and allowed themselves to be taken advantage of.
And then there were the rockstars.
I had some incredible teachers throughout my school years, teachers who truly cared about my well-being and about what they were teaching. Their genuine enthusiasm is what gained them the respect of their students and also made us want to learn whatever subject matter they were imparting onto us. And I’d like to share four of them with you.
In 8th grade I had Ms. Almburg for English. She knew how much I loved writing and let me write a lot of essays for assignments. She was so encouraging and always put loads of fantastic comments in my daily composition book (when red marks were a good thing!). When we started preparing for high school she signed a recommendation letter that I be accepted into Creative Writing my freshman year, which I was, and I totally believe it solidified my love of story-telling.
Which brings me to Mr. Levin, my Creative Writing teacher. It was my very first class of high school, and when I walked in I thought I was in the wrong room – there were older kids there, MUCH old kids, with beards and underarm hair – turned out Creative Writing was for all grade levels, not just 9th graders, and we were very outnumbered (there were maybe five of us youngins and the rest were juniors and seniors). I panicked – I was only 14 – how was I going to write with these MEN and WOMEN? But I held my own. Mr. Levin was passionate about writing and helping us discover our creative sides, and his assignments were so inspiring. My fave was when he told us to write about a chair – that was his only instruction. A big old La-Z-Boy immediately came to mind – I remember thinking, “This is so silly – everyone’s going to write about a La-Z-Boy!” And I was the only one who did – everyone else wrote about rocking chairs and lawn chairs and desk chairs. I still have my folder of writings from that class – I barely even recognize the things I wrote then. Mr. Levin brought out the true, creative writer in me.
My freshman year (and then every year of high school after that) I also became a Thespian (although not officially until 11th grade). Our amazing drama program was run by the infamously talented and devoted and loving Ms. Hasko. I had never met anyone like her and I know I never will. She was loved by hoards of students, and every year she would tell us she was going to retire, and we’d beg and plead to have one more year with her and she always stayed (although she has since retired – and she sooo deserved to!). Ms. Hasko took the time to get to know each one of her students. She pushed us and encouraged us and kept us in line. She was respected and adored. School hours weren’t from 7:30-4, but almost 24/7 – I don’t remember the drama room door ever being locked and Ms. Hasko was always in there, working in her office cluttered with books and mementos, or rearranging the posters with pictures of casts from each play along with the chairs (the classroom was forever being “redesigned”). We were a little family – we went to drama competitions and plays and dinners together, and she gave me the confidence and determination that I still carry with me today.
And last, but of course not least, was Mr. Backes, my newspaper teacher. I joined the school paper as a writer my junior year and was the features editor my senior year. He let me join the paper without taking the pre-requisite journalism class, which I think peeved some people, but it was the fact that I was an editor for an American high school paper that tipped the scales in my favour and got me accepted into Concordia’s modest journalist department. Mr. Backes gave me the greatest gift ever – a chance. He took a shot on me and it has paved the way to incredible things in my professional life. He also gave me a glimpse into what it would be like to work with an editor – to have someone stand over your shoulder and watch you work or give you near-impossible deadlines and time restrictions. Mr. Backes, like the other teachers who stand out in my mind, cared about us. He wanted us to be the best that we could be and wasn’t willing to accept anything less. He knew when to let us be teenagers (by letting us break rules like eating in the editor’s room) and when to put trust in us (by letting us guide the younger writers and mould them into our jobs once we graduated). I will forever have a soft spot for Mr. B. in my heart. He helped make my dreams come true.
Thank you, teachers, for all your hard work and devotion and for the faith you had in me. Thank you for teaching me to think outside the box. Thank you for listening and advising and pushing me beyond my self-created limits. Thank you for your willingness to give so much of yourself despite the lousy pay and lack of respect from parents and students. Thank you for never giving up on me or any of your other students…
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