Red Ink and Laughter - A Teacher's Influence

If your gift is that of serving others, serve them well. If you are a teacher, do a good job of teaching.8 If your gift is to encourage others, do it! Romans 12:7-8 (NLT)

How many people have you met in your lifetime? You probably can't count that high. Okay, how many can you say made a real difference? Chances are, out of a list of the top ten, there will be a teacher in there somewhere. Think back - who would you choose? What teacher affected you the most?

You'd probably not choose someone who laughed at you while scrawling a big red "F" on your essay. But that's exactly why I'd put Dr. Catherine Futral high on my list of women who've affected my life.

After a long time away, I had returned to Mercer University in Macon, GA to finish my undergraduate degree. I was majoring in business, because that's what my company would pay for, and was checking off the squares of required courses when I ran head on into Dr. Futral. A fixture for years at Tift College in Forsyth, she was teaching in the evening college after Mercer had absorbed her beloved campus. My goal was to get all my English courses out of the way as quickly and as easily as possible. Her goal seemed to be the destruction of the ecosystem by flooding the world with red ink.

To give you a mental picture of her wouldn't be hard. Think English teacher. That was harsh. Okay, think English teacher with a great smile and eyes that twinkled as she explained just how miserable she would be making our lives for the next 12 weeks.

She was a woman of grace, peppering her lectures with humor, and her comments on our work with wit. A committed Christian, and member of First Baptist Church of Forsyth, she'd often bring her faith experiences into her lectures. She'd quote Shakespeare, Faulkner, and the Psalms all in the same example of how to write a compelling paragraph. But when she evaluated your work - well, you'd better be ready to hear the truth.

I'll never forget one paper I wrote which received this comment: "Until the very last line of this paper, I felt that it was one of the best I had read. However, your thoughtless comma splice in the last phrase ruined it for me - and you." Beside that snippet she inscribed a large red "F".

Can I call that the gift of encouragement?

It was for me. My mission from that point on was to make Dr. Futral see the error of her ways. She kept trying to change my style, wanting me to use less punctuation - create shorter sentences - eliminate the passive voice. At one point, I ran a paper through a grammar checker program (new technology at the time) and handed it in. Her comment? "This isn't your work." "Oh yes it is," I replied, "and it's perfect." "It may very well be perfect as far as grammar is concerned," she shot back," but it is perfectly awful prose." You've never seen a smile leave anyone's face as fast as mine did. "You can do better," she said now smiling as she handed it back to me, "write it like David this time - from the heart."

Maybe she was from another time, when teachers could demand more and not worry about their student's self esteem. All I know is that she gave her best and expected ours in return. I think of her often and thank God for her. In a sense I'm still writing partly for Dr. Futral. She believed in me. Every time I write I remember, "from the heart."

Do you remember someone who encouraged you along the way? Someone who helped you become the person you wanted to be?

Let them know it. 

They gave you their gift - pass it on.

Grace!

David Wilson

It's A New School Year At It's Like Herding Cats

Tomorrow will mark the end of the first week of the 2012-2013 school year, and I am really enjoying the class. Last year I began the year at Mary Esther as a long term substitute for a teacher out on maternity leave.After the first nine weeks I was hired for a "split" class at Eglin of 3rd AND 4th graders. It was really tough at first and never easy. But I gave the kids everything I could, and I'll remember them forever.

This year I am just teaching third grade. I'm thrilled to have sixteen students that I get to see learn and grow.

You come into the classroom every morning and look at their chairs, knowing that they'll be there in an hour or so expecting you to lead them to learn, encouraging them to push past where they are and move forward - always forward.

This week has been a lot of introducing procedures, explaining how we do things, and rehearsing skills we will use all year. The last two days I have introduced some work designed to assess where the students are now, so I can work to put together plans that will meet each of their needs. We've done some work in Science, Math, Reading, and Writing. As a result I am beginning to have an idea of who might need some help catching up as we launch next week. We'll get them all where they need to be by the end of the year.

Yesterday Bunny and I got the news that the grandchild our son and daughter-in-love are expecting a BOY! It was right before the bell rang to start school and I saw it pop up on the phone "It's a Boy!" and I blurted it out. Then I had to explain what it was about. All the kids just grinned.

We'll have more of those moments this year where our family lives spill over into our school family. Kids bring it all to school with them. Most of them are military dependents and have parents who either have been deployed or will be. They've all lived at other locations. They've all had to leave friends behind. They'll tell me about new puppies, rabbits and fish. I'll hear about movies and video games. By the end of the year we'll know a lot about each other.

 I look out at them and want them to have the best year ever. I can see my own sons when they were in third grade and now look forward to my grandson heading to third grade someday. I want him to have a teacher that will do whatever it takes to make sure their students succeed. Someone like me.

So the year begins with a smile and a prayer that God will give me everything I need to make this the best third grade class in the history of Eglin Elementary.

The Minority Report

I've never been a minority before... in a big way I mean. Everyone feels like they are at times - I've been the only kid with asthma and allergies back in 4th grade, or that kid that lives in the country, even the kid with all 64 Crayolas. Not really much of a minority report, is it?

But in every class of teaching, I'm a minority.

Because I'm a man.

In one class last Saturday, I was it. In two more, there were two of us. Out of two dozen or so.

The number of men teachers has been dropping steadily for years. Right now it's less than 9% in elementary education and a bit more in secondary.

I don't get it. ABC did a study a couple years ago and listed these reasons why men shy away from teaching.


"The first reason is stereotypes. People believe men aren't nurturing. The second reason is fear of accusations of abuse. People are afraid men are going to harm children. And the third reason is low status, low pay," Brian Nelson of Menteach.org said.


So abandoning the profession - what has that done?


Left a hole.


"Children are no dummies," says Nelson. "When they see no men in a school, they get a message. And that message is that men don't care or men don't belong here."


Well I think they do. Men matter. The great female teachers I have met realize that too. One of them told me "we need more male teachers" this week although when I told her I wanted to teach 4th or 5th grade, she said (being a 5th grade teacher) "Well you can't have my job." LOL


I don't know how you change this, especially with the changes education is undergoing right now. While education used to be a profession appreciated by the average American, for whatever reason it doesn't seem to be so now. Whether it's about unions, tenure or whatever, I think America will return to appreciation for teachers. But the low starting salary and uncertain future may continue to make men shy away from choosing education as a career. That will be America's loss.


Men matter.

Cue the Wayback Machine! "When One Person Cares"

I just heard from the best math teacher I ever had, Hazel Struby. She was googling and found a devotional I wrote. In her honor, I'll copy and paste another.

When One Person Cares

All the pieces for a disastrous fourth grade experience were there for me.

My appearance - only a Mother could love (since she pretty much decided how I'd look) that geeky boy with glasses, wierd wavy hair and hand me down clothes.

My point of origin - we were new in the community, just having moved out from the city into a rural area.

My timing - it's better to be new when everyone else is too. We didn't move until a month into the 4th grade. So everyone had picked their friends and the new had worn off everyone - except me.

My personality - didn't have one. I did though have horrible allergies that would cause me to break out into hives that made my skin look like a 3-D map of the world, swell my lip up until it turned inside out, and cause my eyes to close.

So if you were looking for someone to pick on, I was your huckleberry.

All those factors were crushed by one person's care. My home room teacher, Mrs. Pyles cared about me.

Somehow, without ever raising her voice, or making me a teacher's pet, she helped me find a place there, helped me when my allergies took hold, just helped me. She was only one person. But she was more than enough.

Later, much later, I was stuck in a dead end job, having thrown away my chance to get a college degree. I had bills, a young family, and a crushing need to do better. But it had been so long since I was in high school, I knew there was no way I could pass Math.

That was before I met Hazel Struby. She was a math teacher who would not allow me to fail. Shoot - she wouldn't allow me to make a B.

On the eve of back to school frenzy across the street at Valparaiso Elementary tomorrow, I think about those teachers God placed in my life at just the right time and just the right place to do for me what no one else could have done.

Friend, you'll never convince me God doesn't care.

Thing is, He works best through people.

You might be the one He's chosen for someone.

Or someone you know might have been placed within your circle of people just for you.

I'll never be able to repay everyone who has helped me.

But I know Who to thank. When I look back, I feel like this:

2 Samuel 22:24 (Msg)
I feel put back together,
and I'm watching my step.
God rewrote the text of my life
when I opened the book of my heart to his eyes.

Do this for me today - open the book of your heart to God's eyes. Maybe there's a secret hurt, an unfulfilled longing that you've suffered for too long. If you give it to your loving Father, He'll take the fragments of your life story and rewrite it into His masterpiece.

When one person cares, it makes a difference. When that person is God, He makes all the difference - forever.

Grace!

David