There were two fifth grade teachers at Woodsdale School: Miss Fritz the "nice teacher" who gave kids rides in her Cadillac and had parties in her room all the time. And then, there was Mrs. Woods, the "mean" teacher who looked like a snowy egret and ate children for breakfast. Everyone in my family older than I am had Miss Fritz and according to them she was the angel of teacherdom.
The first day of school, we stood outside on the steps waiting for our room assignments from Mr. Hile. When he said I was assigned to Mrs. Wood's class, I made up my mind to quit school rather than be tortured. IT JUST WASN'T FAIR!!! So I turned around and walked home. Where my dear, patient mother asked why I was there. "I quit school", I told her. I explained the inequity of my getting Mrs. Woods and her only reply was "Your father will be home tonite and you can tell him about it".
When Dad came home and I explained my plight, he showed little sympathy and told me we would talk further in the the morning. I went off to bed thinking he would make it all right. The next morning he said, "I've decided you can quit school, but you have to go tell Mr. Hile why".
The prospect of facing Mr. Hile, the principal was daunting. He looked like Abe Lincoln and though nice, was a bit scary. I sat in a leather wing-back chair in his office and told him that I just could NOT have "the mean teacher". After a long pause, he said, "Well, your father says it is alright if you quit school, but I think you owe it to Mrs. Woods to tell her why you are leaving".
The bottom fell out of my world! My heart was racing and so loud I could hear it screaming in my chest. Noooooooooooo! This was a fate worse than death, but I was determined. I tiptoed down the stairs to the first floor. All the doors were shut as classes were in session. Meekly, I knocked on Mrs. Woods door. After a few minutes she opened it and stuck her beak out. I asked if I could talk to her privately. She set the class to work and came out in the hallway. I explained that I was quitting school. She asked why I didn't want to be in her class. I replied, "Because you are "the MEAN teacher". She asked how I would know that since I had never been in her class. I was perplexed but told her EVERYONE knows. Eventually, she suggested that I should give her class a try before quitting so that I would have a sound basis for my decision.
That sounded fair to me, but she stipulated that at the end of the week, after school on Friday, we would talk about how the week went. I agreed. Well, that first week, I was a hero to all my classmates for standing up to her, but I soon began to see just how great she was at teaching. By Friday, I knew I wanted to stay, but I'd be damned if I was going to admit that I was wrong.
Friday came and during our interview I asked her if I could have another week as I still wasn't sure. This went on every week for the whole school year!
On my birthday, I got the shock of my life when she let my mother bring cupcakes and ice cream into the classroom. I learned so much that year, especially in geography and history, but was still not going to admit she was the best teacher I ever had. Meanwhile, the kids in Ms. Fritz' class got rides in her Cadillac, but I felt I had something better....a love of learning and a good teacher.
Many years later, I had to give a speech to 800 people at my graduation for Teachers' College. I recounted this story. But, that is not the end of the story....I found out that my father had called Mr. Hile and Mrs. Woods and explained that his daughter was stubborn, but not stupid and would give a teacher a chance to prove herself. Thanks to the MEAN TEACHER I learned a valuable life lesson which I used with my high school classes for many years.
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What a great story! Thanks for posting this well-deserve tribute to your wise parents, inspiring teacher, and very patient principal!
ReplyDeletePatty Ciripompa
I remember reading this story before and relating to the "fear" I felt when I was assigned to Mrs. Woods' class. Unfortunately, my parents would never have let me change classes, and I was too intimidated to have even considered confronting her. My time in her class was not the gratifying learning experience that you enjoyed. At least every couple weeks I would find myself standing outside her room for some infraction like note-passing or excession giggling, and I would invariably see Mr. Hile (who was always kind). Having been a teacher myself, I would have probably kicked me out, too. Despite her sterness with me, I did learn. In fact, I won a Stifel Award that year. Thanks for sharing your story.
ReplyDeleteHow do I edit my comment. I discovered I need to change excession to excessive...:(
ReplyDeleteI wish I knew how to edit comments, I can't even figure out how to edit posts!!!
DeleteDid you figure out how to edit posts? Whoever is in charge of the blog, should be able to go up to the area at the top right of the browser window. Click on Design and then click on Posts in the list on the left. The list of posts should open. At that point you can review, edit, delete or return it to draft mode.
ReplyDeleteIndividual posts should be editable by the author but I'll check after I close this window.
Candi (Bogers)
I guess an individual who posts can Reply to thier own post or delete it....guess it can't be edited except maybe by the owner of the Blog.
ReplyDeleteCandi Bogers