There's so much of a focus on bad teachers these days. Most people have no idea how many demands are being placed on them, and how easy it has become to blame the very people who have taken on quite possibly the hardest job there is.
So, in honor of Thanksgiving next week, can we move the spotlight away from our children's teachers and shine them on our own for a little while? Most of us had a select few teachers who somehow left a lasting impression, or even changed our whole outlook on life.
I was reminded of one of my own such teachers at my daughter's concert this weekend. He wasn't an academic teacher, and yet I learned more from him than most of my traditional school teachers combined.
As the finest local high school string players wove the music notes of Ralph Vaughan-Williams' Five Variants of Dives and Lazarus together, an invisible magic seemed to fill the air.
It wasn't the music notes, but yet it was. While it takes brains to decipher and interpret them; without the hearts of the string players, they would just be random marks on a page.
As I reminisced about my own musical days, my thoughts turned to the one person who helped me see past all those notes.
Mr. Harris was a middle school general music teacher who loved music so much that he would always say that it was meant to be played loudly for all to hear. I suspect his colleagues down the hall didn't appreciate this too much, but the students certainly did. There was something about him - an authenticity - a vibrant personality - that he just couldn't, or wouldn't, keep inside.
Mr. Harris dared to bring himself into the classroom. There were no walls between himself and his students. In an adolescent's world, that means a lot. When searching for yourself, it's comforting to see adults who seem to have designed their own map. The treasure no longer seems so far away.
I didn't really enjoy studying guitar during middle school, but I took private piano and flute lessons with Mr. Harris once a week. Since he played many instruments, he wasn't the most technical of teachers. He also didn't get angry when I didn't practice the piano. He knew there had to be a good reason why I hadn't.
What I remember most about Mr. Harris is how much he genuinely seemed to care about those around him. He treated his students with the utmost respect, and made us feel like we knew what we were doing. To him, it wasn't about how many notes you played, or how loudly you did so, but that you put a little piece of yourself into your music. He would always tell me to "just play from the heart."
I have ever since.
Mr. Harris passed away at all too young an age, and I never really got to express my sincere gratitude for sharing his music, his charm, and his outlook on life with me. I have no doubt that he helped shape me into the person I am today.
This teacher changed my life. He treated me like an individual, instead of like a number or a statistic. How can I ever even begin to thank him for that?
Well, I can start by thanking all of the teachers out there who share a little piece of their authentic selves with their students and colleagues every day. It's only when we break down those walls that any real learning and growing can occur.
So, what about you? Did a special teacher make a difference in your life? Please share your story.
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