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]
