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Yoda
I would probably get tired of being taught with all that reverse phrasing.
Mrs. Flynn … Senior english, she made me feel like maybe I could be a writer.
Nothing like a good teacher!
I don’t really have one from school. I did like my English teacher, though – but I think that was because she wasn’t strict?! I also fancied my Biology teacher and was gutted when he moved to another school. At uni, I would say my Shakespeare and Icelandic Literature lecturer (which was perhaps reflected in my marks for those subjects). What about you?
My English teacher my last two years of high school, my high school Algebra teacher, and my high school physiology teacher. My favorite teachers were actually usually pretty challenging, and I liked that.
In college, I had so, so many good teachers–English, sociology, earth science, history, speech–I was really fortunate.
I try not to talk about my bosses, though I’ve had one or two in the past I genuinely respected. Now I work for amazing people–so I’m fortunate again!
Teacher? C’mon! She is the only one. Well, also the man who taught me to use my stories to tell what I think is The Story: Dr. Fred Craddock, who passed within days of Dad and with the same insidious disease. These stories from CNN are well worth the read.
http://www.cnn.com/2011/11/27/us/craddock-profile/
http://www.cnn.com/2015/03/07/us/preacher-fred-craddock-obituary/
Boss? When I ran away from T-Town, I got a job with a Civil Engineer, D. W., near home doing land surveys (laying out new subdivisions) and completing simple drafting work while I continued with my studies. He was a fully practicing and “functional” alcoholic. I worked after classes and on Saturdays making $2.75 an hour.
Every semester during the weeks of final exams he would tell me, “I need you to come and stay in the office when you don’t have an exam. I’m expecting an important phone call from (Name)” or “The Law Offices of Dewey, Screwem, and How are going to send over plans for the new XYZ development and I need you to be here.” Then he would leave; sometimes for eight hours leaving me alone in the office with my textbooks and class notes which I studied all day and got paid $2.75 an hour for all hours “worked” while I “serviced” the office. The calls never came. The plans never arrived.
Long after I went on to grad school at Emory, I learned he got sober, re-established relationships with his son and an estranged daughter (a writer from whom I learned this part of the story). They enjoyed his good, long retirement and an unexpected grandfather-hood. He died with and in grace several years ago. He was a good man who I often remember in gratitude: for teaching me the importance, and permitting me the privilege, of finishing of what I started.
Sorry so long, but I am a senior citizen now, having turned 60 yesterday. One can only hold back the years until the levees, lamentably and inevitably, start to weep.
You know I’m your fan–I relish your insights and stories.
I hope the South is still turning out men like Dr. Craddock. And men like D.W., for that matter. His adroit ability to help you study sounds so much like something my own father would have done.
As for your other teacher, is it Mrs. Bryan? I can sincerely say she shaped my life.
Wow. A fan? That’s a first. Also, who else but Mrs. B.?