Woodsdale school had an amazing lady named Eleanor Ball who taught English to recalcitrant junior high students for many, many years. She taught my mother, all my aunts and uncles, and my four older brothers and sisters before I had the "privilege" of being her student.
Basically she was mad as a hatter and terrified her students. She was tall, thin, white haired and was a bit bird-like in appearance. Her specialty was embarassing students who either couldn't or wouldn't learn what she had to offer.
To illustrate what a direct object was, she would throw an eraser at you! She talked to the window blinds and any unfortunate insects that happened into her classroom. We were required to memorize every prepostion in the English language and to this day, I'd say most of her students can still recite them. Diagramming sentences on the blackboard was particularly stressful, but by golly, it helped me understand the parts of speech.
One gimmick that she used as an "incentive' was her sticker clubs. For every success in grammar she would reward with a sticker to be placed on your special page which was usually prominently displayed in her classroom. I always found it embarassing.
Having said all that, I have to admit that to this day I thank her for her lessons. I cringe at mis-use of grammar and always think of her when I see it.
Now, the end of the story: When she was retiring, Miss Ball asked a friend of mine (who was a new teacher at the school and had been her pupil) to help her clean out her desk. In the drawer was a bottle of "cough syrup" which the wiley old lady admitted was a bit of vodka that would "help her through the bad days". Thank goodness for the Miss Balls of this world.
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What I remember is the funerals we had when one of her ceramic animals fell and "died" . . we all marched down the dreaded fire escape to a burial. Course NO ONE can forget the whiz of the eraser as it was tossed at an unsuspecting head. She was a character - -but we DID learn our English and it was never a dull moment in her class.
ReplyDeleteIn any conversation about teaching, especially about teaching English, Miss Ball and Mr. Porter will always be mentioned, usually with a degree of reverence. Both, in his or her own right, were eccentric, sometimes scary, often strange, and occasionally funny. I am thankful I was privileged to be in both their classes, even though at times I bore the brunt of their wrath for being a bit too "social." Kathy, I do remember the funeral, but I thought it was a stuffed animal. Can you imagine a teacher today acting that way and staying employed? Perhaps in a private school....
ReplyDeleteAlthough I did not have Miss Ball as a teacher, I do know that she loved flowers. My husband and I purchased her home. The yard was FULL of perennial bulbs. There had to be thousands! From what I understand from neighbors, when she was able to take care of the yard, her flowers were the talk of the neighborhood.
ReplyDeleteReturning from the restroom - a scary journey in itself - I would need to knock on Miss Ball's locked door. Knock, knock . . . "Who is it?" sang out Miss Ball. I would not get in, if I did not reply, "It is I," also in a song-like voice. My grammar book was yellow with a black and white penguin. We had funerals for pencils that fell on the floor, and Miss Ball kept saucers of water on the window sills for her stuffed animals. Do you remember the hankie she had tucked into her sleeve? I had the privilege of learning from one other teacher who was as quirky as she - Dr. Ruth W. Towne, who was in her 60s, dyed her hair black, wore mini-skirts, and was a fascinating university history teacher. Long live our grammar lessons!
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