The other day I read a post on a web site that had a big ole list of dos and dont's for blogging. One of the most adamant was to always use proper and correct grammar. (and spelling) You would not want to be called to task by your readers would you? Well, Eng/Lit was my best subject in school. (Except my junior year when I was in the same class with a friend. We were warned by our teacher to stop exchanging notes in class or we would both be failed. We didn't ....she did!! That summer we both had to attend summer school, but not in the same class.)
To be honest I really did enjoy Eng./Lit. very much and usually made very good grades. But it was in Jr. High that I first really began to appreciate these subjects, although at the time I did not know it.
In the 9th grade our homeroom teacher would come into the class after the bell rang. We would all be sitting at our desks gazing at the daily scripture verse and inspirational quote on the board. I can still see her now. We all thought she was a bit odd and funny looking. She had a huge blond streak at the front of her brown hair , big gold hoops in her ears, and wore a lot of sweaters and wool skirts. Sometimes she would wear her favorite animal print scarf tied around her neck. ( Little did we know that her clothes were purchased from Montaldos', a very upscale women's store in Charlotte. And her soft colorful leather shoes were expensive Papagalos. She was in fact a very elegant woman, an excellent teacher, and really loved her students and loved teaching them and tried to instill a bit of class into all of us.
Personal hygiene was high on her list. She tried to encourage us girls to be sparing in our make up and to be modest and above all for all students to make a habit of daily use of soap and deodorant. I recall how she would gently look at us all and say, "Now class someone in the room has really bad body odor today. I am not going to say who it is but they are on the left side of the room. Now, if anyone in here does not have access to soap, shampoo or deodorant they can come to me privately and I will buy them some. We all thought this was hilarious and quite frankly, I don't think anyone ever took up her offer.
She wanted us to be exposed to culture too. So, The whole 9th grade was taken to an opera I do not remember what it was (Maybe Les Miserables) We were all encouraged to wear our best clothes and be on our best behavior and not act like a bunch of country yahoos. ( My words, not hers.) I remember that I sat by my friend Pat and we giggled quietly through most of it. (Especially when a man sang "I'm freezing". and the other responded , " Me too." )
Besides, having culture, modesty, and good hygiene, we were encouraged to use proper English in our speech. Now all of this was in addition to learning tons of poetry, grammar and literature.
I have never been a whiz at memorizing and Mrs. H. like all teachers had us learning the strangest poems like....
Flower in the crannied wall,
I pluck you out of the crannies.
I hold you here, root and all, in my hand.
Little flower-but if I could understand
What you are, root and all,and all in all
I should know what God and man is.
(Lord Alfred Tennyson)
For the life of me I never could figure out why this poem was so important.
Or the long, sad poem , Captain, oh my Captain (By Walt Whitman)
I think I managed to get through Flower in the Crannied...but I know I never got all the way through Captain, oh my Captain. Matter of fact I can still recall that disastrous day.
Ninth grade and years following were not good years. There were a lot of difficult times and this particular year my father up and left my Mom, myself and my four sisters. Mom did not have a job, we had to move....etc. Having to deal with home life AND learn epic poems was just too much and I did not even try. The day came when it was my turn to recite. About all I knew was the title. Mrs. H. scolded me and then said that my mother would not be very happy if she knew I wasn't doing my homework. I told her, "My mother could care less if I did my homework or not !" And then I ran crying from the room. After about fifteen minutes of me crying in the girls bathroom, Mrs. H came in. I told her what was going on at home and we talked awhile. She seemed to be understanding, but I learned a valuable lesson from her that day. No matter what goes on in our lives we are the only ones who have to pay the consequence of our actions or reactions.
After poring my heart out to her, she was going to make me go back to the classroom and apologise to my classmates, and I was supposed to let them think it was my idea. (She went to the teachers hangout for a few minutes to give me the chance to do this.) And what did I say!? Class Mrs. H. said for me to apoligise for disrupting the class, but not to let ya'll know that it was her idea, not mine. ( I was a naughty girl !)
But what my peers did not know, was that day I got "it"...what she wanted us to learn, what she wanted us to be ...honorable, educated, well rounded. She wasn't out to get us, she really cared about us.
Years later at Stunptown Festival, I was touring the Reid House in Matthews. And sitting (not setting) in a chair in the hall was Mrs. H. She was probably in her late seventies at that time. Same blond streak in her hair, gold earrings, the same elegance that she wore so well. It was as if she was holding court. She was surrounded by men and women of all ages. "Mrs. H. you made such a difference in my life... Do you remember me ....this is my child, I wish she could have had a wonderful teacher like you...Thank you for all you taught me.." These were just some of the comments I managed to hear being addressed to her. And then, it was my turn, " Mrs. H. you made such a difference in my life, this is my daughter, thank you for all you taught me...Do you remember me Mrs. H.? I was in that last ninth grade class that you taught in Matthews." She looked at me, took my hands between her hands and gave me a very special smile! "Yes, I remember you." And I know she did.
This weekend there will be a reunion of the last five years of Matthews Jr. High. My husband will be there, but I will be unable to attend. So, I hope that when you all speak of our past teachers you will remember all our special teachers.
Just one other thing, I looked up the meaning of the above mentioned poems. According to yahoo answers, "Tennyson's concept of God is an infinite principle that can't be grasped by the finite mind." And I say, Amen to that.
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