When I was a kid, it never occurred to me that teachers were like the rest of us. I assumed they lived in special teacher enclaves. I was in middle school before I learned the truth. My illusions were shattered in the Model Market. Mama was checking out packages of chickens when, to my astonishment, I saw a teacher in the vegetable aisle. Flabbergasted, I whispered, “Mama! Look! There’s Mrs. Novak! She’s a teacher at my school!” Mama smiled, “ Oh, really? Do you have her for a class?” I said, “No, but what’s Mrs. Novak doing in the Model Market? Doesn’t she have her own place to shop?” Mama replied, “ Well, apparently she lives around here.” I was stunned. “ You mean there’s a teacher village around here?” Mama stopped inspecting chicken and looked very closely at me for a long moment. Then she said, “Honey, we need to talk.”
That’s when I learned the truth. Mama toId me that teachers lived in regular houses. They had children of their own. They shopped. They made doctor and the dentist appointments. They went to the movies. In short, they were ordinary people, just like the rest of us. Talk about boggling the mind! The funny thing is, I still don’t believe it. Mama was wrong. Teachers are not ordinary at all. We carry their lessons in our pockets for our entire lives.
I would love to say that I came away from my academic career brilliant and bursting with facts and figures that I remember to this very day. Alas, I cannot. But my teachers taught me far more than mere facts and figures. They taught me how to live my life. They taught me right from wrong, how to share, care and be fair. They modeled behavior I wanted to emulate. I admired everything about them. They didn’t all admire me back, but the ones who did had a profound and very positive effect. A smile, a wink, a pat on the shoulder, or a “Good job!” could keep me going for a week. I would savor every nuance of the moment and bask in its glory, replaying it over and over in my mind.
