Tuesday, August 30, 2005
Sky rockets in flight, afternoon delight
I was a verbally precocious child. You're probably wondering, "So why do you brutally massacre the language now, Mike?" I'd like to spin a sordid tale of brain damage from drugs and alcohol, but I'm just lazy is all, folks. Back then though, I was reading often and way beyond my age and that probably contributed to an advanced vocabulary. My fourth grade teacher, a delightful Filipino woman wider than she was tall, used to beg me to stay in at lunchtime to play Scrabble with her. Though already a budding gay, I did love football and baseball, so she sometimes had to twist my arm to forgo the playground with my friends. Looking back, some might consider her actions unseemly, but I think she was just lonely and when you consider that, even in our youth, the queers are unusually adept at polite conversation, can you really blame her? More importantly, I could occasionally kick her English-is-my-second-language ass all over the board, and she got off on that shit. OK, a little unseemly again. I'm not sure why I thought of her today. She's gotta be dead by now. Thanks for listening.
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8 comments:
Thats nice. My 1st grade teacher told my parents I was a day dreamer that would never amount to anything. It wasn't until Ms. Pond's 2nd grade class that I actually felt comfortable at school (she let me write poems). Its funny teachers can leave such impressions.
Ms. Pond played guitar. ahh how I miss 2nd grade.
Thank God for Ms. Pond.
Your first grade teacher is like that principal from "Uncle Buck", xtine.
I had a teacher named Mrs. Smith for 4 years in grade school (and no, this is not because I was exceptionally bad at grade school) who had a major influence on my later ability to skip 4 days of class and then ace whatever test was handed out on Friday anyway. She was also a very sweet and kind lady. Good teachers are better than chocolate bunnies. Mostly.
I had a Mrs. Smith, too, Jen! She was my kindergarten teacher and a kindly old grandma type perfect for the shy kid I was.
You're right, a good teacher is worth her weight in chocolate bunnies.
One of my pipedreams is to spend the second half of my working life as a teacher. I think I'd love it. Hate it some days, sure, but mostly love it.
Maggie said:
"Stupid to have let myself quit over problems other people had, but there you go."
Not so stupid when you're just a kid, Maggie. It's why good teachers are so important. I think your experience might be common, even though you as a person are obviously exceptional. ;-)
This should probably be a whole other post, but my freshman English prof in college was very influential in my life. My writing was raw and rough around the edges, but she was so encouraging of me. She told me she could feel what I was feeling and the polish could come later. I wrote a paper about careers tied to certain genders, which was so obviously about my struggle with sexual identity. She was all over that and suggested in class that my paper was about gay rights. Being 18 and just fully coming to terms with being homo, I was as resistant as she was persistent until I agreed with her out loud. That was big step for me. Just goes to show you that it's true what the song says. Life ain't worth a damn til you can shout, out loud, "I am what I am." Once again ladies, the truth is to be found in show tunes.
This should have been another post, huh?
That's cool about your English prof, Michael. I was actually gearing up to be a uni prof myself when I got sick and everything changed.
Maggie, I dropped out of high school too, but more because of the suckage of my parents than the suckage of my teachers. I went and took my GED immediately, though, so in a technical sense I graduated when I was 16.
I'm very good at school, and I love it (even when the teachers are assholes, I tend to win arguments with them and make it obvious to everyone that they're assholes, which I enjoy more than I should), but fate keeps contriving mechanisms to keep me out of educational facilities. Sometimes I wonder what the universe is trying to say to me, but then I suspect that it's probably just some random insult and I'm better off not knowing.
You'd make a kick ass teacher, Jen.
I love school, too. When I pass a nice campus, I make with the wistful sigh.
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