One thing that really sucks about getting older is recognizing names in the obituaries.
I was sitting across the table from the spouse; we were reading the newspapers, a familiar task. I glanced across at him, and saw the name on the page: Lucy Jean Styles was dead.
The name didn’t ring a bell with the spouse, but I knew it very well. She had been a first grade teacher at my elementary school — long, long ago in a galaxy far, far away. She wasn’t even my first grade teacher; I’d been in the other first grade class, with Miss Collins.
Let me share with you why I recognized that name…and why it’s affecting me today.
Sherman, please set the Wayback Machine to the 1969-70 school year…
Fifth grade was an exciting year. Not only was it one step closer to junior high, but there was a new teacher on campus…a very handsome teacher. Mr. Aquilina had just moved across country from New York; he brought his wife, his worldly goods, his love for the Miracle Mets, and some radical ideas to suburban California, radical even for the late 1960s.
One of his radical ideas was that if students were already proficient in a particular subject, it didn’t make sense for them to sit in the classroom getting bored when they could be useful elsewhere. I was above grade level in math — probably from all the math games my older brother played with me. So Mr. A. came up with a plan…and that’s when I started heading down to the first grade classrooms during the math section to help with tutoring.
I started out in my friend Miss Collins’ class; I was basically a floater, going from desk to desk in the well ordered rows as students held up their hands needing help. I had a lot of fun, and I think the kids appreciated someone closer to their own age showing them how to survive addition and subtraction.
After the Christmas break, I switched to the other classroom — Mrs. Styles. I wasn’t that familiar with her, but expected more of the same. I was in for a surprise though.
Mrs. Styles’ students were…a bit behind. If NCLB were around back then, they’d be the ones testing at “below grade level”, and Mrs. Styles would be worrying about her job future. But there was a reason those students were in that class — the administrators knew that by the time they came out, they would be at grade level, or at least a little closer than they were when they came in.
So, the students were a bit below grade level…but there were three girls that were even behind the rest of the class. Those three were my project. I don’t remember their first names, but I do remember being familiar with two of them; their older siblings were in my grade. One of them was a friend of mine — the other was a noted bully, and fat girls (like me) were a frequent target.
When I came in the room, and math class started, I took my own group of three students and went off to the little table in the corner. Mrs. Styles and I put together special workbooks, cutting out pictures of fruits, vegetables, and other everyday items, gluing them onto construction paper and writing the numbers VERY BIG. The girls came to look up to me, and to look forward to math class. I’m not going to pat myself on the back and say that I had anything to do with that…it was the attention they were able to get, more than would be possible in a class of 20+ kids. (I don’t remember what the class size was back then, but in midst of Baby Boom America, it was probably larger than what today’s experts would call optimal.) But the fact that Mrs. Styles recognized the importance of that personal attention, and that she trusted a fifth grader to provide that guidance, is what I think affected me then and now.
I also got to know Mrs. Styles quite well — I never knew her first name was Lucy; she only went by Jean. She’d come from Tennessee, and still had a trace of accent; as I had relatives in Missouri, I thought it was cute. And we had fun putting together the workbooks, and grading papers together after school (when I didn’t have to run off to Girl Scouts).
I don’t remember how I taught the girls — but I did teach them. They were able to advance with the rest of their class. Oh, and the bully? He stopped picking on me after his sister learned math, and he was one of the most concerned about me when my dad had his heart attack.
So, what’s the point of this? Well, Mrs. Styles never did anything earthshaking; she taught her students for years, and even after she retired kept teaching as a substitute. She even won “Outstanding Substitute of the Year” in 1999, when she was 65, an age when many folks just are packing it in and marking time. But she loved to teach…and it showed in her students. And maybe that’s the point: in the eyes of “the world”, you’re just an ordinary person, but if you have an impact on another person, especially if you do something you love, then you’re anything but ordinary.
Rest in peace, Mrs. Styles…
[cross-posted at:
Booman Tribune
My Left Wing
Village Blue]
we teachers never can be sure of the impact — positive or negative — we are having.
And, isn’t it interesting that a way for providing additional support other than Federally mandated tutoring at up to 40/hour can achieve the individual attention students often need! You can read my diary down below yours (or as a diary at dailykos or at teacherken.blogspot.com or as a front page story at myleftwing) to see some of the problems with such tutoring, among other issues.
Diary recommended – the more we can talk about teachers and education the better off we will be.
we teachers never can be sure of the impact — positive or negative — we are having
Yup. And that’s one of the hardest parts of the job. We can see if our students are “getting” the information we’re trying to convey, but we almost never know to what use they put it. Teaching is a gian leap of faith, a career based in hope. I hope I reach my students, infect them with my enthusiasm and passion for a subject, provide them with tools they can use in life, open their minds and hearts. Other than the several hours per week I spend with them, though, I rarely know if it’s working. Occassionally, a student comes back some time after the class to talk, or writes a note to let me know how they’ve been affected. Other than that, though, I–all of us–send our students out into the world with the hope we’ve helped to prepare them for it.
R.I.P. Mrs. Styles…your legacy lives on in the students you touched. And that’s all any of us who teach can ask for.
Teachers have first names??? GOSH! 🙂
Teachers greatly affected my life. The good were never just good – they were GREAT. Superhumans in a field full of others who are just zombies.
I remember Ms. Smart from 4th grade. How she said I always made her laugh. How I wanted to make her proud. How she sat me down in private and asked me caring questions. How she cried when I answered that I needed to take care of my family because no one else will.
She baked sheet cake for every kids birthday.
Beautiful diary, CaliScribe Thank you.
That was just beautiful.
I will anywho my favorite teacher and email her today, so I am not writing it without her knowing after her death.
thanks.
Bless the teachers that care…all of them everywhere.
My childhood was an abusive mess and my response was to become a shy bookworm. Skinny kids took as much harassment as large kids. To those that knew me then – they would describe me as a “painfully shy” child. I would retreat to the back of the room whenever possible and hated having a “B” first name that put me at the front of the room. Okay – no smart comments based on my current uppity attitudes!
There are 4 teachers that touched my life and helped make the woman I am today. Mr. Freulich – 4th grade; Mr. Fuller – 5th grade; Mr. Meyer – HS German; and Mr.Wilson – HS Civics. All 4 reached out just by being observant, by providing intellectual challenges, and listened to what this shy kid had to say. I didn’t think them exceptional when I was in class – I thought they were angels sent to help me.
CaliScribe was an assistant to that angel Mrs. Styles – bless you for that.
May Lucy Jean Styles be at peace…another angel that walked on earth.
Really good writing, Cali.
A wonderful piece, thanks for sharing it with us.