For the most part I am grateful to my old teachers. By and large, they were an earnest and dedicated bunch.
Teachers like Patricia Daley Martino (pictured above with her husband Peter) were a treasure.
But I remember five with less kindly sentiments. Still, they did teach me something:
What not to do.
My very first high school science teacher laid down the law on the first day of class. And the “law” went something like this:
“I may make mistakes in marking your papers and grading your tests. You may be able to prove to me that I made those mistakes. It still won’t matter. I’m not going to change your scores or your grades no matter what you say.”
I can’t remember precisely what went through my mind when I heard this, but it was probably some version of “Is this guy nuts?”
What I learned from this man (whose son I knew in grade school, when he was already a juvenile delinquent in-training) was that power corrupts, and authority needs to wielded with a sense of justice, lest you become some sort of bully or dictator like my science teacher.
I also learned, in a practical way, that the famous quote from trial attorney Clarence Darrow is true: “There is no justice, in or out of court.”
But, I doubt that the teacher in question intended to instruct me in that particular lesson.
Still another high school science faculty member, a year or two later, took off a small number of points from a test paper because I didn’t put my home-room number on the page; or perhaps it was not in the right place, I don’t recall which. Since I was already “detail-oriented” he taught me nothing new about attention to small stuff. But, what I did learn was a lesson about nit-picking, something he was quite good at.
Going back to the primary grades, I observed a bad example displayed by two different teachers, one female, one male.
For reasons still unknown to me, both of these single adults, neither probably older than their early 30s, felt compelled to tell my class a bit about their dating lives. The man fancied himself a “Don Juan” type and indicated that he could easily have been married if only he wanted to. The woman, for her part, explained why it was that she was still single.
Should I have taken notes? What would they have said if someone queried, “Will we be tested on this?”
Even as a little kid, I thought to myself, “I’m not supposed to hear this.”
Finally, the teacher I had for music in the 8th grade told us all that she had been a famous opera singer, but for some reason had given up that career. Moreover, she offered that she had a stage name different from her current married name. What was it? She wouldn’t say. From time to time she would also rant about Harry Truman, who hadn’t been President for a number of years. She was, however, a heck of a good choral director.
Another case of kids being a captive audience. Too much information — the wrong information, I knew even then.
I suppose the moral of this story is that we learn equally from those who are good models and those who aren’t.
Teachers (and others) often don’t realize that the lesson they intend to teach is, in fact, not the one being taught.