Teachers

Pennies are no longer being minted and you would need an awful lot of them to pay for even the humblest item these days, so why do the suppliers of gasoline/petrol not get real with pricing? How exactly is one to pay 9/10 of a penny? Why not call it $4.10? Is the idea of $4.09 so much more appealing?

Admittedly, it is a lot more acceptable that the $7.89 it was in my dream of last night. Yes, it was that specific and so were the words I was yelling out around the gas station, something very rude about the president. I couldn’t possibly specify what, but we often saw signs suggesting the same about President Biden when he was in office.

Those same signs are now appearing with the updated name.

Progress!

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Something else we observed on today’s outing brought up the subject of physics.

Though I’ve completely forgotten what it was, it set me thinking about my long ago school days. I am realising that when you reach old age, many occurrences trigger memories.

Returning to England at age 14, I found that chemistry and physics were subjects on offer but not compulsory. I was interested in both, but they were taught by a nun who physically reminded me of the sister who had seemed to so dislike me in Cambodia. Teachers cannot be expected to like all their students, but I believe they should mask disdain. That woman had seriously upset me, but perhaps I could have got past my prejudice if my new teacher had been less of a sourpuss.

You may think that it was not the teacher, but the student who was the problem, or that I had a dislike of nuns, but I had no such issues at the first two convent schools I attended. Those sisters were firm but always kind.

(Except when they forced me to eat the foul food!)

Besides, it was not just myself but an entire class that was chastised by yet another old crone who flounced off telling us all to wallow in the slime of our ignorance. How we howled with laughter and enjoyed that free hour!

Because of that other woman, I abandoned chemistry and physics and by the time I came to the States, it was too late to start over. Would I have pursued either subject? Who knows, but teachers have such an impact on the students in their care.

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At the school in England, maths (math in the USA) was taught by a lay teacher, Mr Burn. During the previous 6 years when my education was very disrupted, I had eventually been placed in the care of that first Catholic school where I had begun to learn maths, but in French. I don’t know if the French method itself was different, or if it was just a linguistic problem, or perhaps I had just not reached the same level that was expected back in England, but I was utterly lost.

It may as well have been quantum mechanics, taught in Chinese for all the sense I could make of it. I struggled to achieve a score of 15% on tests and I was the laughing stock of the class. It was seriously demoralising. At my previous school I had been top of the class and now I was the dunce. I despaired of ever improving, but Mr Burn must have seen something in me because he took me aside and told me I was not stupid and that I could master the subject.

As I recall the man was not especially indulgent or overly kind, but he motivated me and by the end of term I came first, which was supremely satisfying as my classmates had to take back their jokes. In all the years since, I have been grateful to that man.

As it happened, when I came to the States, aged 16, I was obliged to spend a year in high school where I was confronted by the “new math” which was entirely different, yet again. My high school teachers were not encouraging. My guidance counselor was dismissive, refusing to acknowledge me until I pronounced schedule “skedule”.

The school had been informed that I wished to study French but I’d found myself in an Italian class. This, I managed to rearrange, once I’d adjusted my pronunciation, but there was little I could do with other subjects. “World Problems” was a requirement and totally over my head. It absorbed all my efforts to receive a passing grade, so I opted not to struggle with the new math and abandoned the subject forevermore, a shame really, as I had come to enjoy it, but that first year in America was tough in so many ways.

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The year of high school and the four years of college that followed made me feel so insignificant and stupid. I was coping with significant personal challenges, which I could use as an excuse for my poor performance, but many students have so much more to overcome and still manage to excel.

By the time I graduated, I had no self-esteem and felt worthless. I was grateful to accept the first full time job that was offered to me and clung to it like a life raft.

One memory I had offered a shred of self-respect. It was the class I had taken with Mr Burn. He had proved to me that I was not stupid and that I could overcome difficulties. It is something I have always remembered with much gratitude.

If he is still alive, he will be a very old man now. I’ve always wished I could tell him what a difference he made.

It is proof to me that teachers play a key role in society, yet they are so under valued. Their work is difficult, their challenges many and their pay is inadequate.

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