Today’s subject in this column will be, “Remembering your favorite teachers.”
Put your thinking caps on and tie them under your chin. Let’s take a walk back to when we were all in kindergarten. It’s the first time we were officially away from our parents and gifted a tiny bit of independence in the outside, albeit, scary world. We learned about choices. Most importantly we learned that 1+1=2. If we knew nothing else, we knew that equation even if we had nothing to apply it to in life yet.
My kindergarten teacher in Argusville, ND, taught us that equation by giving us M&M candies. No wonder my hips are girthy. I learned the basics of math by eating chocolate. Subtraction was my most favorite module of learning with her as my teacher! If only I could have known how important simple mathematical equations would impact my life.
My first grade teacher was Mrs. Kenyon at South Elementary School in West Fargo, ND. That was the year I took my first standardized test and learned I had test anxiety. Thankfully I had an extra pair of pants in my little cubby when my anxiety came out my bladder. Awkward.
Second grade I transferred to a brand, spank’n new school – Eastwood Elementary in West Fargo. This was a school not like any other school. It was state of the art for that decade. We had no walls and learned independently. We problem solved collectively and sat at tables instead of individual desks. We could go outside to study in the grass if it suited us and the weather was agreeable.
Every teacher impacted me but nobody impacted me more than that dreamy Mr. Jeff Thompson! I told my mama I was going to marry him. She ruined the rest of the year for me because she apparently told him of my secret crush. He pulled me aside the following school day and told me he was taken. He was engaged to be married. He let my broken heart down soft by saying, “You’re very special to me as my student. I enjoy having you in class. You’re my helper. Thank you for that.” Awkward.
Despite that jilt by the dreamy male teacher of my dreams, he did teach me how to spell “California and Environment” so there’s at least that. I delighted in being in school. I loved learning. I valued my teachers. I enjoyed the bus ride to and from school. And I looked so forward to report card day! After being uprooted again – the sixth grade found me in school in the town of Davenport, ND. I vividly remember my first day at this new school. Her name was Mrs. Mark. She introduced herself to us and declared, “You are the sixth graders in this school. You are no longer children. You are maturing and almost mature. You are the oldest in the school. This year will prepare you to move on to junior high where you’ll morph into young adults. Let’s have a fun year meeting our goals and remember -“you rule the school this year” so be especially great role models to the younger grades.”
She was firm but caring. She clearly stated things. I took the words, “You rule the school to heart” and I remember taking ownership of keeping things clean and tidy. The first day of junior high approached with utter anticipation. Now I’m entering the school in Kindred, ND. Instead of having just one teacher all day – I suddenly had a different instructor for every subject. Mr. Jensen taught us about the wonders of science. Mr. Schmidt taught us the phenomenal things about history. Mrs. Fischer taught us ND Civics. There was a bulletin board in the hallway that read, “When I’m right, no one remembers, when I’m wrong – no one forgets.” I never forgot that.
I took up cheerleading in junior high school and I felt so safe, secure and comfortably social there. I wanted for everything to stay like this forever. I loved my teachers, my school, my friends and my life. But – for all intense purposes, I was still a kid. I had to follow my parents or in my case, my parent. My parents separated and we moved to the place I disliked, Valley City, ND. My grandparents lived there. I was snatched from my perfect life and forced into another, much larger school than I was ever accustomed to at an age that added to the trauma.
Still, I remember the teachers making me feel welcomed. Mr. Knodle encouraged me. Mr. Kjelland taught me how to warm up my voice before singing. Mr. Weiss taught me to “payeth my nickel and taketh my chances” in life. And just like that -graduation happened and I was ripped into the strange world of being an adult with teachers that treated me like one. I was set on becoming a weathergirl for a station in New York City. I began college at Valley City State College (now University) taking just generals. I began noticing things that the instructors were doing wrong. I transferred to Moorhead State and took up Mass Communications and Journalism.
I was too poor and unled to go to New York anyway. Life happened. 1+1=2. I got married. I got divorced 2-1=1. I started an export corporation to the Russian Far East. Life became my teacher. I bet it became yours, also. Whenever I felt defeated in life, I remember the words of Mrs. Mark. I was old enough to rule the school of the life I had been given because I was mature enough to know how to problem solve like Eastwood Elementary’s teachers allowed me to learn.
At the height of a very traumatizing time in my life, I began practicing “being led.” I’d ask God to lead me where He wanted me to be. I’ve had the grooviest life of peculiar opportunities because of it. For nearly two decades I was led to caring for the elderly as a Joyologist in nursing homes. Just like I love my teachers forever, I’ll forever be cleaved to the elderly in my heart. Recently I asked to be led. This is a story all in itself. I will one day tell how it all happened but for now I’ll just share that I had two M&M’s in front of me. I was offered two amazing life paths to follow and I ate one. The one I was purely led to and not by my own accord was the one M&M still on the plate. Being led is a mysterious walk into the unknown. Yesterday I took my final exam on becoming a substitute teacher in the State of North Dakota.
Could it be that I was born a kid, craved being a mother my whole life but couldn’t be, worked with the elderly to become wise about raising children and how to age gracefully only to begin my golden years teaching school children as much as I’ve learned? Next, I’ll ask to be led in making an impact in their lives. My assignments as a sub will be short lived so I pray my heart light shines worthiness and wonder upon all of them like Mr. Thompson shined on me. Wish me luck and a whole bag of apples on my first day. Mr. Jensen in Kindred said, “They keep you regular!” Trust the science!
Do you remember the teachers who had the biggest impact on your life? I’d love to hear who and how. Email me: dakotajodi@yahoo.com
The Blonde on the Prairie is a lover of ND. She is an author and motivational speaker, owner of “Monkey Balls” food truck and Joyologist to the elderly and disabled.
