Who was your most memorable teacher?
In honour of World Teachers Day 2021, Megan and Jack share their reflections on the monthly prompt: Who was your most memorable teacher? Why?
Megan
I remember my prep teacher making me touch a dead guinea pig. We had a class guinea pig and she passed away. I don’t really remember much about the guinea pig. Her name escapes me, her presence in the classroom doesn’t stand out, but I do remember her funeral. My prep teacher passed her around and asked each of us to hold her or pat her and say our goodbyes. I also don’t remember much about prep, but I do remember that moment. I felt overwhelmed, uncomfortable and I didn’t really want to touch the dead guinea pig, but I did.
In Grade 3, I had Mr Brown as my classroom teacher. Mr Brown asked us to write him a letter each Monday morning to tell him about our weekend adventures and he’d always write back with questions, insights or jokes. It was this letter writing that allowed me to gain my pen license and also made me fall in love with writing. Anticipating his response to our letters was a classroom highlight. We’d come back in from lunch on a Monday afternoon and read his replies- laughter erupting around the room. My Brown made me laugh, but he also made me believe in myself.
In Grade 6, I continued my love of letter writing, but no longer as a class activity, it was now more of a way to exchange stories and gossip with my friends. There was one particular day, my Grade 6 teacher was yelling at the class a lot and seemed pretty stressed. I wrote to my friend, “Miss is being a b*tch today.” Well, Miss unfortunately intercepted my letter as I passed it to my friend. She read it to the class and then told them she would now show us what being a b*tch really looked like and that they had me to thank for it. I don’t remember a lot about Grade 6, but I do remember that day so clearly. I felt so much shame and guilt.
In Year 7, English quickly became my favourite subject. I got to write even more and thrived in class. Miss Lingham was my Year 7 English teacher and she was one of those teachers who had her love of teaching written all over her face. You could see her posing questions and getting excited when we shared our thoughts and reflections. Her eyes would light up in the ‘aha’ moments and she’d gently check in with those who were having the ‘oh no’ moments. It was during this year that my Mum got sick. I didn’t like talking to teachers about personal things, but there was a day that Miss Lingham asked me to stay back after class. She said I didn’t seem myself and asked if I was okay. My Mum had been taken to hospital that day and I hadn’t told anyone, but she knew enough to ask. Miss Lingham was the kind of teacher who saw me for who I was and allowed the space for me to be.
Teachers are memorable for many reasons. So often it is not for WHAT they teach, but how they make us feel and what they make us believe about ourselves. It’s the shared human experiences. It’s the Mr Brown’s and the Miss Lingham’s who led me to believe in myself to write and teach today - two things I love to do.
Jack
When I was in Year 8 I decided that my music class was such an inconvenience in my life it was worth avoiding. I don’t think I showed up to a class beyond Term 1. I remember seeing my music teacher around the grounds of the school, spotting him from 50 metres away and quickly veering to take a different path. I couldn’t keep up this act forever though, and a call to my Dad towards the end of Term 2 meant the situation had to be addressed. When I finally went to see that teacher I felt sick with nervousness. I was expecting a blasting but instead received a calm response and a request to take responsibility. I remember leaving that room with a clear feeling that I would no longer run away from tensions in my life and that communicating my needs, however difficult, would always be preferable to hiding them. I swapped out of music class for the rest of the year, and for the rest of my time at school. A decision I now regret, especially as my Nonna was a music teacher, and she was someone I greatly admired.
Another memorable teacher never taught me in the classroom. Mr Brusasco was a school leader and my soccer coach for all five years during my time in high school. Soccer was everything to me at this stage of my life, so it was fitting that I learnt most about myself on the field. Mr Brusasco consistently raised the bar of expectations, picking me in senior teams beyond my years and giving me leadership responsibilities as I progressed. He would ensure I was stretching for my goals whilst creating the ‘secure base’ conditions for my progress. He believed in me when I wasn’t quite sure I could do it yet. He also didn’t give me everything I wanted, playing me in defense for the first two years, despite my strong desire to move higher up the field (which I did communicate, sometimes through much frustration!). As the years went on it became clear to me that he had a vision for our team and a plan for me in that collective vision, teaching me the strengths of teamwork and perspective. He would often use metaphors to communicate that vision with us, simultaneously making me laugh out loud and think deeply.
Mr Brusasco didn’t just build my self-confidence and belief, he also helped me through tougher moments. I remember he noticed when I wasn’t acting myself during the process of my parents’ separation. He offered to chat and had the foresight to recommend I see the school counselor. I remember walking out of the counselor’s office one day with a tangible feeling of weight being lifted from my shoulders, and an awareness of the importance of having a ‘safe haven’ to show vulnerability; it’s okay to seek help and support.
It is interesting to me that my most memorable teachers are not memorable for the content they taught but for the moments of self-awareness they instilled in me. It reminds me that teaching is often emergent, and that like attending to a garden, micro-moments of attention hold the seeds of potential that can blossom in unforeseen ways in a young person’s life.
Each month we will be sharing a reflection card in our newsletter. We welcome teachers to share your writing (or other creative outlets) on this blog as we engage in reflective practice together. If you are interested, get in touch at megan@teacherswell.com.
