How teachers are immortal.

Teachers immortal? Strange idea, I guess, but it didn’t originate with me. It originated with early 20th century teacher and author, Jesse Stuart, who once wrote that he was convinced that teachers were immortal because they lived on in the lives of their students.

This is Teacher Appreciation Week., and while we as a nation are focused on COVD-19 and healthcare providers and first responders (as well we should recognize and appreciate), let’s pause for a moment to recognize those people who trained the nurses, doctors, paramedics, and others who protect us.

I, like you, had a variety of teachers. Kind ones, strict ones, lenient ones, hard teachers, easy teachers, even mean-spirited ones. Not all teachers deserve to be appreciated, but most of them do. Most are hard-working and truly care about their students. They become discouraged when parents are too critical, when students are disrespectful, when administrators are harsh and condemning and even threatening their jobs. Some teachers do not need to be in the profession, no doubt. But most do, so it is appropriate to recognize them at least once a year during this time.

I learned valuable life lessons from my teachers, lessons that weren’t always pleasant. In second grade, for example, a boy in my class asked what letter came after another letter. I asked, “Don’t you know your ABCs?” Mrs. MacEntire at O.C. Johnson in Yuma, Arizona, took me outside, kneeled in front of me, took my hands, and explained Kindly but firmly that not all students learned as quickly as I did, and if I said things like that, I’d hurt someone’s feelings. That made a lifelong impression on me. That same teacher allowed me to read aloud the short stories to my class and show them the pictures I drew to go along with them. She never held that incident against me.

Mrs. Haney, at McGraw School in Yuma, introduced me to books like “Heidi,” “Swiss Family Robinson,” and other classics that she read aloud to us after lunch/recess every day. We were allowed to put our heads on our desk while she read to us, and I have no doubt several fell asleep, but I listened to every word.

I can’t leave out my third grade teacher, Mrs. Straub,, at McGraw. When I approached her with the idea of our class doing a play using the album “Alice in Wonderland,” she turned the whole thing over to me. I cast the actors, and we rehearsed a few times before doing the play, including costumes, for our parents. I cannot fathom how terrible it probably was, but she didn’t tell me it couldn’t be done and she didn’t take over. Thank you, Mrs. Straub, for building up my confidence.

Junior high is kind of a blur to me. In seventh grade, we had a social studies teacher who was so strict, we were all scared to death of him. But I learned the capitals of every state and country. He tested us one at a time. He held up an index card with the state name and we told him (individually, not as a group) the answer. I was terrified. I guess the good thing that came out of that was that I learned to study, study, study. I was too scared of his glare to give the wrong answer.

In high school, I was more concerned with social activities than my teachers. Oh, I studied and made good grades, but each class was just something to get through until we changed classes when I could connect with my friends. We had good class discussions in Mrs. Mason’s junior English class at Warren County Senior High in McMinnville, Tennessee, and the yearbook advisor I worked under for two years, Mrs. Chambers, was always kind and patient with us, her smile quick, always treating us like young adults instead of teen-agers. Mr. Stubblefield, my Advanced Biology teacher, taught me the value of research (with that 35 plus page research paper we had to do in one six weeks!) and what it meant to have a sense of humor as a teacher. I don’t remember much about what I learned in that class (after all, it’s been forty-six years), but I do remember his voice, his smile, some of his sayings.

College came next, the University of Tennessee at Martin. I started out as an English major, switched to history, and ended up majoring in Spanish and minoring in French while taking business courses like accounting, business law, and other courses to prepare me for a career in international business.

Well, that didn’t happen.

But those teachers in the foreign language department were my favorites, the ones who impacted me the most. Dr. Robaina, the Cuban attorney who escaped Cuba during Castro’s takeover and ended up teaching Spanish here. His English was heavily accented, so you might as well learn the Spanish. Maria Maloan, the teacher who influenced me to take French as well (she spoke five languages and was a native of Brazil), instilled in me a love of foreign cultures and language and piqued my interest in world travel. Dr. Mohler, my advisor, whose calm demeanor and methodical approach to teaching helped me learn everything I needed to learn.

Maybe I didn’t go on to bigger and better things by working in international business for a large bank or corporation, and maybe I didn’t achieve those college dreams of being a world traveler, and maybe I didn’t become a successful author (remember those second-grade short stories) or actress/director (third grade play), and maybe I didn’t accomplish anything noteworthy, but my teachers helped to mold me into the person I am today. Just someone who worked hard, did the responsible things in life, tried to help my family, friends, community, and church.

I shared my personal memoirs to honor those who affected me and to spark an interest in each one of you to remember your own teachers and what the good ones meant to you. I shared them also so current teachers can see what type of teacher influenced me. And I shared them so parents who have never worked in education and maybe have a negative attitude about school can understand or begin to see that teaching is more than just standards and objectives and grades. The best teachers, in my opinion, are the teachers who have heart.

To all teachers who are often over-worked, under-paid, and taken for granted or even under-appreciated, this is your week. Thanks for all you do, and may God give you wisdom, patience, and confidence as you continue in a career that makes a difference in the lives of so many.

After all, Jesse Stuart said you were immortal. Who is to say that he’s not right?