I'm not sure I ever had one hugely influential English (or other) teacher, but I had a tremendous drip feed from various teachers who developed my love of fashioning sentences so they were pleasing to me. My English teacher in my last year of school, Miss Gibson (an Englishwoman in a New York private school) told me very authoritatively in her cut-glass English accent, that the word 'empathy' (which I had used in an essay) was to be deplored as a 'modish' word. For some reason, that stuck with me for the rest of my life. Makes me laugh. But then a lot of things do.
Yes, this was in the late '50s. I told my mother (a Vassar graduate, but also a professional working mother of three children – way ahead of her time – and much too busy to correct my homework - she occasionally looked at my better essays). She didn't approve and 'modish' became a word we tossed around in the family at the time. I later told my husband and it has lasted until the present day. He jokingly talked of something else being a 'modish' word just recently, which is probably why it came to mind today.
You remind me that I once had the idea of compiling a book of family sayings, with the aim of collecting my own and those of others, for general amusement. It might be the sort of thing people buy for Christmas. In the end, I decided I had better things to do with my time.
But many family sayings involve a word or phrase which highlights a concept that is not covered by other words. My husband had a teacher who was always getting himself into small but messy scrapes, such as opening a match box upside down. Every time one of us spills rice on the floor, or the contents of a wastebasket, we will say “I’ve just done a Wellisz” (the teacher’s name).
My favourite was a term invented by my father – ‘dime warming’. We lived in Manhattan and every time we got into the car to drive to our house in the Catskills, my mother would immediately get out a dime (yes, I know, it was a long time ago) for the George Washington Bridge, which we wouldn’t get to for another 45 minutes or so. A wonderful phrase for being prepared much too early.
Mrs. Gilbertson was my version of Mrs. Wight. Not only mine, but as I've reconnected with high school friends later in life, some who are writers, and looked back on what she taught us besides how to write an essay I'm not surprised by our shared appreciation of her talents. Back then an essay wasn't an exploration but an argument and she showed me what it meant to marshal one. Mrs. Gilbertson insisted deep and careful reading comes before and after writing; and discussion may prove fruitful. And though I then hated the idea of correcting mistakes whether grammar or spelling, she taught me good writing is rewriting. My greatest regret is that none of us loved her back the way she deserved to be. She pushed me to be a better writer with her high expectations for all of us. She knew I could do it and do it better.
I wonder how many of us are out there, wishing that we had the chance to properly thank that teacher who made a difference in our lives. Mrs. Merritt - the ENG101 teachers you warned us about were nothing like you. A belated thank you.
I loved this essay, Rona! It is so beautifuly written. The way you grab us with the details about Mrs Wight and really make us want to know what happens. Brlliant storytelling. Thank you!
I was lucky with an English teacher, Mr Taylor, who'd given up truck driving for teaching. He showed us poetry could be cool, interesting. And he helped us through the thickets of the Four Quartets with enough patience that we were able to reach a clearing and appreciate what we were reading.
For all Eliot's faults and despie the fact that world view differs so much from mine, those poems have stayed with me always and I go back to them a lot. So yes, Mr Taylor did me a great service. Did I ever thank him properly? Of course not.
My Mrs. Wight was Mrs. Jaffe, who expected our best efforts, and somehow extracted them from us. As her student, I lived to please her, and I believe I did. She was the educator I hoped to become. Alas; I have failed us both.
I had a similar experience, Rona. My HS English teacher overheard me making fun of someone's cookies one day. (I guess we'd all brought in snacks for some sort of in-class party). She pulled me aside after school. She told me that she was very fond of me and had high expectations for my future. But what I'd said about this other girl's baking was unkind and beneath me. She was right. That comment has stuck with me to this day.
No matter the subject, the teachers who care are really teaching life. Thank you for sharing your story. Minutes ago I cme upon Philip Larkin’s “The Mower,” which concludes, “ we should be careful /Of each other, we should be kind /While there is still time.”
Good writing, a pleasure to read.
I'm not sure I ever had one hugely influential English (or other) teacher, but I had a tremendous drip feed from various teachers who developed my love of fashioning sentences so they were pleasing to me. My English teacher in my last year of school, Miss Gibson (an Englishwoman in a New York private school) told me very authoritatively in her cut-glass English accent, that the word 'empathy' (which I had used in an essay) was to be deplored as a 'modish' word. For some reason, that stuck with me for the rest of my life. Makes me laugh. But then a lot of things do.
Empathy, a modish word? Kindness and caring are always in fashion. Love the “cut-glass” accent.
Yes, this was in the late '50s. I told my mother (a Vassar graduate, but also a professional working mother of three children – way ahead of her time – and much too busy to correct my homework - she occasionally looked at my better essays). She didn't approve and 'modish' became a word we tossed around in the family at the time. I later told my husband and it has lasted until the present day. He jokingly talked of something else being a 'modish' word just recently, which is probably why it came to mind today.
Don’t you love family witticisms no outsider would understand?
You remind me that I once had the idea of compiling a book of family sayings, with the aim of collecting my own and those of others, for general amusement. It might be the sort of thing people buy for Christmas. In the end, I decided I had better things to do with my time.
But many family sayings involve a word or phrase which highlights a concept that is not covered by other words. My husband had a teacher who was always getting himself into small but messy scrapes, such as opening a match box upside down. Every time one of us spills rice on the floor, or the contents of a wastebasket, we will say “I’ve just done a Wellisz” (the teacher’s name).
My favourite was a term invented by my father – ‘dime warming’. We lived in Manhattan and every time we got into the car to drive to our house in the Catskills, my mother would immediately get out a dime (yes, I know, it was a long time ago) for the George Washington Bridge, which we wouldn’t get to for another 45 minutes or so. A wonderful phrase for being prepared much too early.
We still talk about checking the “tempshitter,” kidspeak from our now 52-year-old son.
Mrs. Gilbertson was my version of Mrs. Wight. Not only mine, but as I've reconnected with high school friends later in life, some who are writers, and looked back on what she taught us besides how to write an essay I'm not surprised by our shared appreciation of her talents. Back then an essay wasn't an exploration but an argument and she showed me what it meant to marshal one. Mrs. Gilbertson insisted deep and careful reading comes before and after writing; and discussion may prove fruitful. And though I then hated the idea of correcting mistakes whether grammar or spelling, she taught me good writing is rewriting. My greatest regret is that none of us loved her back the way she deserved to be. She pushed me to be a better writer with her high expectations for all of us. She knew I could do it and do it better.
It often takes a bold, theatrical presence to command the attention of a class. Many good teachers work quietly.
I wonder how many of us are out there, wishing that we had the chance to properly thank that teacher who made a difference in our lives. Mrs. Merritt - the ENG101 teachers you warned us about were nothing like you. A belated thank you.
When you’re young, you think the world revolves around you. You don’t notice the gifts you receive from caring people like my teacher and yours.
Oh, Rona. What a good read.
You are so funny and reveal so much of your challenging childhood, peopled with unforgettable characters.
I’m happy to hear that you “yelled back” at your father. Brave girl, then and now.
So glad you connected, Pam.
I loved this essay, Rona! It is so beautifuly written. The way you grab us with the details about Mrs Wight and really make us want to know what happens. Brlliant storytelling. Thank you!
I was lucky with an English teacher, Mr Taylor, who'd given up truck driving for teaching. He showed us poetry could be cool, interesting. And he helped us through the thickets of the Four Quartets with enough patience that we were able to reach a clearing and appreciate what we were reading.
A truck driver who turns to teaching and cracks open the mystery of the Four Quartets! I still haven’t read them. Maybe I need my own Mr. Taylor.
For all Eliot's faults and despie the fact that world view differs so much from mine, those poems have stayed with me always and I go back to them a lot. So yes, Mr Taylor did me a great service. Did I ever thank him properly? Of course not.
What student ever thanks the life-expanding teacher enough? Good thing teachers don’t do it for recognition.
My Mrs. Wight was Mrs. Jaffe, who expected our best efforts, and somehow extracted them from us. As her student, I lived to please her, and I believe I did. She was the educator I hoped to become. Alas; I have failed us both.
You never know who you might have educated by being who you are.
I had a similar experience, Rona. My HS English teacher overheard me making fun of someone's cookies one day. (I guess we'd all brought in snacks for some sort of in-class party). She pulled me aside after school. She told me that she was very fond of me and had high expectations for my future. But what I'd said about this other girl's baking was unkind and beneath me. She was right. That comment has stuck with me to this day.
No matter the subject, the teachers who care are really teaching life. Thank you for sharing your story. Minutes ago I cme upon Philip Larkin’s “The Mower,” which concludes, “ we should be careful /Of each other, we should be kind /While there is still time.”
Such a poignant and moving recollection of a mentor and early influence in your writing life ..
What a wonderful essay, Rona. I'm letting my reply to your questions steep a bit. So rich and clarifying, holding them close now....