Thinking Back On School Days

Senior English teacher. He was a good man that taught well and was understandable. Although English wasn’t my favorite subject, I enjoyed being in his class. He and I clicked.
 
One of my favorite teachers was named Miss Grundy. She was young and an art teacher. Anything but a Miss Grundy at all. That lady taught me art like I was never taught before. How to recognize the masters and appreciate each and every one of them. I never became an artist myself, but I certainly have a great love for it.
 

Three favorites come to mind.

Mrs. Hax, seventh grade English teacher. Very strict and perfection was required. Forget to dot an "i" on a spelling test and it was counted wrong. Penmanship, which has lasted me to this day and parsing sentence structures.

Also, my college microbiology instructor. I loved that class, taken as a prereq to nursing. I went to him one day and told him I was considering changing my major from nursing to micro-b. He said, "If you like low pay in a job that is difficult to get, go for it." I stuck with nursing.

Then there was the world history instructor. Her class was like sitting in Story Time at the library. Her exams were killers, almost all essay questions. She encouraged looking at different sides of issues.
 
My bookeeping teacher in high school, but not because he was likeable. He really wasn't. He was an older, very gruff man, but I wanted to learn what he was teaching, simply because I was interested in numbers. Later in life, I took a job in accounting.

More than once, he stood at the blackboard and drew a little tent, with a stick man beside it. I can't remember his exact words at that moment, but he said something like this: "See that little man by his tent? That's how you will end up if you don't pay attention and learn something in this class. It's a big, bad world out there, and you need to be ready when someone throws a dead, dirty, rotten rabbit into your face."
 
My 5th grade teacher, Mrs Cross. She was kind and had that everyone loves her personality. Our class had her before as a substitute teacher in earlier years. We were told we were very lucky she'd decided to work at our school since she had returned to full time.

Then there was ninth grade-- all my teachers, except for gym class :rolleyes:, were hot. They were young, idealistic, and the trend was toward short skirts. I remember the algebra teacher specifically. It was quite the subject that day amoung the boys, when she'd come into school wearing a nice short skirt and had a line of hickeys running up the inside of both her legs.
 
My college history Prof (PMP) during my Firstie (senior year) at the Naval Academy. He was the smartest man I knew.
We didn’t have computers back then and so, we used encyclopedias mostly to get our information. I looked for days to get information about dates during WWII. I went to him and told him I looked in 2 different encyclopedias for dates of certain events, but couldn’t locate them. He told me the dates and so, when I finally did find the dates, he was right.

He invited me to go on a weekend tour of Gettysburg and the different battlefields. I agreed to go with him and as we entered the town of Gettysburg, there was a booth situated there where people could hire a tour guide while in their own car. He said we didn’t need a tour guide because “I know this area better than most of them.” We spent over 6 hours exploring the area and he acted as a tour guide knowing dates and what generals fought what battles. I was super impressed with his knowledge of the area and the dates and what battles were fought where. We did carry a battlefield map with us.

It was good I took notes because on Monday, he handed me a 10 question test to find out what I had retained. I was able to take it back to my dorm and return it the very next day. I had all 10 right. We got along really well and had he not died a few years later, I was going to visit him in uniform. Instead, I flew from San Diego to eulogize him.
 
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I hated secondary school with a vengeance, and left as soon as I was legally able to do so, aged 15 1/2. However, there was one teacher, a Mr Morgan (a welshman) who taught us English. He inspired me to read like no-one else ever had. I used to enjoy his lessons, and I learned a lot about how to critique a book as I was reading it.
 
I never had a favorite teacher or one that I perceived as a mentor.

From an early age I viewed school as more of a social or moral institution, that seemed to exist to force one to conform to a specific doctrine that I did not agree with.
 
My composition teacher. Her name was Willie Roller. She was a very good teacher. Her face would crack if she ever broke a smile. She liked to intimidate but it was just an act. Every now and then you could see a little smirk in the corner of her mouth where she was trying hard not to laugh.
 
MACKTEXAS said:
My bookeeping teacher in high school, but not because he was likeable. He really wasn't. He was an older, very gruff man, but I wanted to learn what he was teaching, simply because I was interested in numbers. Later in life, I took a job in accounting.

More than once, he stood at the blackboard and drew a little tent, with a stick man beside it. I can't remember his exact words at that moment, but he said something like this: "See that little man by his tent? That's how you will end up if you don't pay attention and learn something in this class. It's a big, bad world out there, and you need to be ready when someone throws a dead, dirty, rotten rabbit into your face."
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Some of the best teachers were the gruff ones. They don't play around and try to be your friend.
 
1. My high school typing/shorthand teacher. A very kind and gentle soul. If a student didn’t like her, they had the problem.

2. My high school English teacher who was tough as nails with little tolerance for those who didn’t try. Being an over achiever, I was a straight A student in her class. I was shy and she broke me out of that by assigning me many, but short, oral talks and got me into some good debate sessions😇😇
 
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