Today is National Teacher’s Day. I’ve had some amazing, inspiring teachers in my lifetime. And today, it only seems right that I tell you about one of them.
I’ll admit that it was kind of hard to focus on just one teacher. But last week, in my annual “thank goodness that Tax Day has passed” trip back to my hometown, I met with three of closest friends from junior high. We had wine and coffee – and two of them may or may not have witnessed my efforts to play one of those dance competition video games – and we reminisced about the “good old days.” To be fair, I’ve never met anyone who truly loved junior high school. You’re not a little kid anymore and you’re not grown up either. It’s a bit of a struggle to figure out who you are and who you’re going to become. And everyone you meet along the way seems to have an opinion. Some opinions, however, mean more than others. And for me, the one opinion I truly valued came from Col. Maus.
Col. Maus was my algebra teacher and my math coach. He was also a former Green Beret (U.S. Army Special Forces) and would regale us from time to time with some pretty amazing stories. He didn’t take crap from anyone, including my brother: Col. Maus was the first teacher to tell my brother to take off his hat and spit out his gum and (gasp) make it happen.
Col. Maus was loud. He would bang on the chalkboard, yelling, “You know the answer, KP!” (he got a kick out of the fact that my initials also signaled Kitchen Patrol). Col. Maus didn’t let me slack off, which I appreciated. I needed some motivation from time to time. You see, I grew up in a small town where being the smart girl was a tough gig. But Col. Maus – who had seen a lot tougher gigs than that – refused to let me wallow in the preteen angst of it all. He wouldn’t let me pretend that I didn’t know an answer. He challenged me to find the answer even when he knew I was wrong. He encouraged me to be proud of earning an A and then told me to go after the extra credit. He shamed me into trying out for the math team and then reminded me that I was capable of besting my boyfriend on the test to make the team (he was right).
When we were training for competition, he took our rag tag bunch of math geeks to his lovely antebellum home on the river and served us a proper lunch. He never talked down to us, he expected us to rise up to him. He wouldn’t accept “I can’t” as an answer. He would say, when we were struggling, “Press on.” And we did.
I know that not everyone was a fan of Col. Maus. Some parents (and students) felt that he was too hard, too strict, too loud. But I loved him for it. It was exactly what I needed. I had big dreams of leaving my hometown and doing something different with my life; that was difficult to reconcile when I had folks close to me that constantly talked down the idea of girls getting a basic education or (horrors) going on to college. But with Col. Maus, I had a cheering section, I had a friend and I had a hero.
Teachers make a difference. They affect lives in ways that might not be apparent when kids are young and still searching for who they are. Teachers do far more than just relay facts and figures – heck, anyone can get that on the internet these days. Teachers help us become our best selves. In this latest round of federal and state spending cuts and revenue balancing, let’s not forget that.
Press on.
Thank you for your wonderful post!
I wanted to share this moving Thank a Teacher video that was created to remind us that teachers inspire greatness and bring out the best in us. Please take the time to check it out and pass it along to your favorite teachers, including Col. Maus 🙂
http://www.mudpiesandbutterflies.com/thankateacher
Four of my closest friends are teachers and I give them all the credit in the world. I don’t think I could do it. Even though I’ve contemplated teaching at the college level, that’s a very different scene than the elementary/middle/high school scene. I most definitely appreciate the teachers in my life that really pushed me outside of my comfort zone to experience things I never would have experienced without their guidance.
Col. Maus was an excellent teacher. He was able to get kids to “press on” even when they had given up. He was a tough disciplinarian, but with junior high kids, it is sometimes required. Robbie never complained to me, his dad, about Mr. Maus making him take his cap off and stop chewing gum. He knew I would support the teacher. It was rude to the teacher.
Kelly was right about a good selection of teachers. At the time Topsail Junior High School was blessed with several caring teachers. Don’t take me wrong, there were some bummers, folks who had no business standing before a class of anyone, much less young minds. Role models don’t share skin color. Role models are those who so impress one that you crave for why they are different and what makes them tick.
Another of excellent teachers that blessed Kelly was Mrs. Williams, the teacher for the GT classes. Eventually Mrs. Williams was stolen by Mecklenburg County, but her presence with Kelly and her fellow students made school all the more interesting
Teachers take their lead from the administration. In Pender County at that time, the county school board just couldn’t convince the need for better facilities. But Topsail was blessed in having Dr. Poore as the principal brought a more professional approach to the local junior-senior high school. Dr. Poore had been educational advisor to Gov. James B. Hunt, Jr., so he knew of ways to obtain funds from the state, by-passing the local system of good-ole-boys.
Education is so easy to cut, especially in rural areas that see no value in education. Building a $60 million stadium does not educate. It pleases the adult leadership which wants to live out their fantasy through younger bodies. Athletics has its place, but school is about preparing young minds for the future.
For Pender County it took twenty years to get a facility and have it equipped properly. Some other counties are not so fortunate, and therefore a generation of young minds are being starved, not prepared for the future, much less a better life.
I agree with Kelly’s final statement, “let’s not forget” what teachers do.
Wait, what, really? Even in the 80s there were places where girls were discouraged from going to college? I’m shocked. But I was from a competitive Philly burb.