Hey! Teachers! Don't leave those kids alone!!
Two of our greatest super heroes, Iron Man and the Incredible Hulk, are scientists. And to think, humanity would now be ruled by Loki if some great teachers hadn't helped Tony Stark and Bruce Banner become the geniuses they are today. Science also made Steve Rogers Captain America. Just think about it.
When I think about the educational opportunities my parents provided for me, I am eternally grateful. I have had more than my fair share of exceptional teachers, and now that many of my friends have made it their profession, I have even more respect for it. Teaching is not some walk in the park. It's not a ticket to three months off every year. It is hard. It can be thankless. And you sure as hell aren't in it for the money. Remind me why teachers make less than coaches at some schools? Oh, because life is CRAZY. I have never wanted for role models (my mother being chief amongst them) but the majority of my teachers really helped shape me into the awesome, intelligent, ball of sassamafrass that I am today.
My grade school teachers were brilliant, kind, patient women. Each one of them deserves a big reward and a hug, because they took classrooms of crazy, rambunctious, and sometimes cripplingly shy and awkward children (cough*me*cough) and worked with them. It was there I learned lessons that will stay with me for the rest of my life. Doubt it? I can still spell veterinarian and talk about Greek mythology. My cursive handwriting is off the chain. I've got my times tables down. I still like whales. And I know how to share, when to be quiet, and innovative ways to sculpt Play-Doh. Information that stays with you over 20 years obviously made a great impact. And I have beautiful, incredible teachers to thank for it.
High school was a bit more hit-and-miss, but there were some real gems. Mr. Marvin, a darling elf of a man who encouraged our love for the arts. A real champion of every one of his students. Ms. Hunt, who made art so fascinating that I still remember most of what I learned in that class, and can still rattle off facts during museum visits. The late, great Mrs. Jones, who taught me Latin in her own unique and wonderful style (like Yoda by way of Tennessee Williams). To help us remember the phrase "anaphora" she would wave enthusiastically to her own gigantic wig of curly hair. "Like an afro!" she'd shout and then we'd all be on the same page. I was so sad when she died. And of course, Dr. Brent. When I first met Dr. Brent as a freshman, she scared the ever-living shit out of me. Because Dr. Brent didn't like freshman, and I had made the mistake of existing in the same hallway as she stood. But as I grew up, and was clever enough to sneak into her AP English class, she noticed me, and encouraged me to speak up, to write more, and to go for goals that I just assumed were out of my reach. With her help, I won fellowships. With her help, I graduated very high up in my class. With her help, I received the school medal, one of the greatest honors bestowed on graduating seniors. Because she pushed me hard, wouldn't let me deliver anything but my best, and backed me up every step of the way, I did more and better than I ever thought possible.
I was similarly lucky in college. Last year, when I visited the theatre department, the amazing Dave still remembered my first and last names, and greeted me like a prodigal daughter. He was funny and smart and completely off his rocker, and it was a real joy to learn the finer points of theatre tech from him. To be in a close-knit department, in a small-ish school, you really do become a family. My advisor, Alma, took chances on me just like Dr. Brent had. She showed me that beauty and comedy weren't mutually exclusive. She pushed me to work harder, and think Each of my professors are distinguished artists in their own right, and the fact that they cared enough about us to take the time and share some knowledge, to help us grow and think and be challenged....it's humbling.
So thank you. Thank you all so much.
Thank you.
