Mrs. Miller

In doing a quick scan of any social media it is absolutely evident that the school year is gearing up for our kids and teachers across the nation.  Posts of dedicated teachers putting the finishing touches on their rooms are now being replaced by parents first day pics of their children heading off to school.

It is hard for me to believe that its been 2 years since I left classroom teaching in pursuit of a new type of teaching by leading school groups throughout Washington D. C. and taking adults all over the country.  It’s bittersweet to see the array of “Back to School” posts because it makes me miss the classroom.  As rewarding as my endeavors has been the last couple of years, it does not replace being with a group of students an entire year, seeing them grow through through their challenges and accomplishments.  It’s a feeling that simply cannot be duplicated.

The posts have also made me reflect on some of my favorite teachers who shared great lessons with me that often extended beyond the typical curriculum.  They challenged me, encouraged me and provided inspiration for me that extends to today.

Although I hate to leave anyone out, for the sake of time and readers eyes, I would like to share a couple of stories about a couple I had who truly made a difference.

I was a total hot mess in 1st grade and I often think of the patience that my teacher, Mary Lou Miller, must have had to put up with me.  Mrs. Miller was exactly what you would expect a stereotypical teacher to look like.  She had her assortment of sweaters and her hair was always up in a tightly wound bun on the back of her head.  We used to often wonder if she would look like Rapunzel if she unleashed that beast of a bun.  She never did. 

Unfortunately, I was the kid that always cried everyday.  I don’t know why I was so emotional, but everything set me off.  My pencil would break…..tears.  My paste dried out….tears.  It happened like clockwork everyday.  Sometime in the morning, I’d have an emotional breakdown and slink off to the bathroom in the corner of the room and weep. After a few minutes, I’d open the door with my tear stained face, dripping nose and call out for Mrs. Miller.  Every single time she’d come to me and talk me down.  After a little while I’d be fine, that is, until my afternoon breakdown.

Mrs. Miller showed me what true compassion was.  She was compassionate without coddling though.  If one of my crying fits got in the way of my work, I’d still have to finish it, even if it involved me losing some play time.

On one of my last trips home, I was chatting with my dad about her and he told me that she was in a local retirement home.  Mrs. Miller had always remained close to our family so we decided to go and visit her.  When we got there, she answered the door thinking that we were delivery people.  After a little reminder, she threw her arms open and gave me one of those wonderful familiar hugs that I’d grown so accustomed to as a little guy.

We talked for the better part of an hour and she told me some stories of things she remembered about me.  It is unbelievable, but I truly feel that she remembers every single child she ever taught.  I can only hope that my mind will be a quarter as good when I’m her age.  One story she told us is apparently one that she has been telling people for many years. On a field trip to a local farm, we were all crossing through a field dodging cow patties as we walked.  Mrs. Miller and a volunteer stayed close to my side and once we made it to the other side, she turned to me and said “Michael you did so well, staying away from those yucky things.”  I turned, looked up at her and said “Mrs. Miller is that cow shit?”  Mrs. Miller, without letting her shock register simply responded “Yes, Michael it certainly is.”

I vaguely remember all of this happening.  My only true memory of it is that the parent volunteer was doubling over in laughter and I couldn’t figure out what she thought was so funny.

Another teacher that I remember very well was Mr. Bob Raines who was my 5th grade teacher.  He was the first male teacher, besides a coach, that I’d ever had.  By the time I was in upper elementary my crying fits had been replaced by uncontrollable hyperactivity.  I was the poster child for ADD, but of course, back then it when undiagnosed.  My parents were often told that I just had a lot of pep and energy.

Mr. Raines, in less than two minutes, taught me a lesson that has stayed with me my entire life.  One day he held up a copy of The Hobbit and challenged all of us to never lose our imagination and creativity.  He said that oftentimes adults will get so caught up in their lives that they forget to play and dream.  He told us to never let that happen to us.  I don’t know what provoked his little speech but I’ll never forget it and am so grateful for it.  Throughout my years as a teacher and even now, I take that lesson to heart everyday.  Whether it be preparing for a new tour or helping teachers design curriculum, I always let my creativity guide me. 

As this school kicks into gear, I wish everyone a safe, productive and inspirational year.  I’d love to hear some of your stories about your own favorite teachers.  Please comment and follow.

All the best to you all.