"In My Opinion . . ."
June 2, 2001
I received a large packet in the mail filled with information from the Disney Corporation. Apparently a student had anonymously nominated me for the Disney Teacher of the Year Award. I was flattered, to say the least, but at first I resisted submitting the application. I gave it some thought, however, and decided that if a student of mine felt that good about me as a teacher, then I ought to take the time and fill out the forms. It required sealed letters from a student, a colleague, and an administrator, and that was the difficult part: asking busy people to write glowingly of me!
I did, though, and then faced
the daunting task of writing four 1-2 page essays on various aspects of my
career. My final topic, describing an event or experience that affected my
career, was the toughest one for me. I racked my brain for that defining moment
in my 23 years of teaching and realized that what has most influence me has been
those special, rare moments when a former student has told me of my influence on
his or her life. I decided to write about one of those moments, and what follows
is the final essay to Disney.
“I remember the time Jeff Jones told the world that I was the inspiration for his Pulitzer Prize-winning novel. The bearded young man stood on the podium, recounting how his days in my classroom shaped his life and nurtured his soul.” I wish that I could say that this little dream was true, but as far as I know, although I have had over one thousand students, none of them has ever won a Pulitzer, much less dedicated it to me! The moment in my teaching career that has left an enduring impression on me is far less dramatic and far more personal.
My students and parents lavished me with appreciation during my sixteen-plus years teaching grade school, but when I moved to Junior High, I was warned that those high-recognition days were over. Forget about the sweet notes and the letters of praise; as a language arts teacher I’d have to accept the fact that I may be well-liked as a person, but my subject matter was rarely a favorite among young teens. I’d have to just have faith that I was making a difference.
One evening as I lamented the agony and futility of trying to teach essay writing to seventh graders, the phone rang. A sweet voice asked if I was Mrs. Lemke. I figured it was a telemarketer, but before I could respond, the young woman caller said, “I don’t know if you remember me, Mrs. Lemke, but I’m Jolene. I was in your fourth grade class at View Ridge.”
How could I possibly forget Jolene? She was a shy, innocent child who lived in two cultures. Her mother was from Thailand and her father from the U.S. Jolene didn’t fit in with most of the highly affluent students in my room, and she didn’t stand out academically, but she was such a positive child. I didn’t remember Jolene’s work, but I remembered her soul.
“I left your class and moved to Thailand,” she continued, “and then we moved to Idaho. From there we moved to Florida, but now I’m back and living in Washington again. I’m a junior now.”
We chatted for a moment, and then she said, “I just wanted to call to tell you how well I’m doing. I have a 4-point and I’m on my high school tennis team. I am a writer, Mrs. Lemke, and I wanted to find you and tell you that all of my success is due to you. You taught me how to write and you gave me a love of writing. I wanted to thank-you.”
That out-of-the-blue conversation brought me to tears. Jolene’s kind words left an enduring impression on me, and they help me deal with the vagaries of my profession. The rewards and inspiration for being a good teacher are not always obvious or immediate, but sometimes they’re just a phone call away.