So, my son just started kindergarten. He went off on the bus his first day without tears, without worry, without fear. He was so happy and confident that I didn’t even cry, and I cried last year when I spotted a friends daughter about ½ mile away getting on the bus her first day. My son (and this is without prejudice, naturally) is affectionate, sensitive and highly imaginative. My only concern with the whole school thing is that he’d get squashed. I told my husband, “I gave them a really cool kid and that’s what I want back at the end of it. A week after school started- I mean his first real, full week- I got a call from his teacher. My blood ran cold. She said that he had told a girl in his class that he had a laser beam in his mouth and it killed people. The girl was really upset. The teacher was really upset and I’m worried that they are going to kill the creative spark which burns so bright in my kid. I know were all hyper-sensitive in these post-Columbine days but come on! I love that one day he’s got the laser beam, one day he’s a skunk called Stella, one day he’s Pikachu, another day he’s a pirate king. He used to insist that his potato Bob come to bed with him, then it was a coconut called Bob which he still has somewhere, and then a dead crayfish we found by the stream that he named James. It took a lot of talking for him to get rid of James. James kind of stunk the place up.
Anyway, all this and a blog idea which I am co-opting from my good buddies over at www.firstoffenders.typepad.com ( a blog led by four fantastic mystery/suspense writers which everyone should check out) got me to thinking about teachers and specifically those who made a difference in my life. I have three and here they are:
*My 3rd grade teacher Mrs. Blaise who let me work at my own pace which meant I could go through the whole reading exercise book for the year in a few weeks. I was so excited to be reading I just couldn’t wait.
*My 10th grade English teacher, Mr. Kerslake, who looked kind of like a beardless gnome and sat cross-legged on top of his desk frequently. He introduced us to ‘pomes’ and ‘fillims’. I still remember him reading Neruda who was so much better in Spanish.
*My 12th grade communications teacher, Mr. Peters, who was able to hold onto his dignity even when it was revealed that his nickname in college was “bunny”. We studied film and plays in communications class and he let us have free rein, including letting me play George in “Whos afraid of Virginia Woolf” even though I’m a girl.
So those are my big 3. Anyone else remember a teacher who made an impact (good or bad)?
By the way, I just got another call from my son’s teacher saying he was doing beautifully so I guess that means he’s onto another flight of imagination not quite so scary to a 5 year old or a kindergarten teacher.
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