I had always been an average student, a student who did the minimum amount of work just to slide by with average grades. One day in particular stands out in my mind. As I sat in one of my high school classes, bored to tears, a group of “gifted” students passed by the window on their way to a school enrichment outing. I remember thinking to myself, “.gifted kids receive all the extras to enrich their education, special education students receive extra one-on-one support to make sure they succeed, but what about kids like me, the ‘kids in the middle’? Why don’t we get something to make our school more meaningful and interesting?”..

Lucky for me, I met Mr. Knight. Mr. Knight was the first teacher to push me and set high expectations for all of his students. I thrived in his class. He presented material that was thought provoking and interesting- something for which I’d hungered year after year. He was strict but he knew me as an individual. I knew he cared enough for me to get me to think about things and to push me past my comfort zone. He helped me to consider myself as intelligent and worthy of my thoughts. I had a true awakening as a student- I wasn’t average as I had always considered myself all of those years. During college, I was on the Dean’s List and went on to obtain my master’s degree in education.

Today, I’m an educator and in my classroom, I teach to a wide range of abilities. But because of Mr. Knight, I set high expectations for all of my students in a positive environment. All of my students, whether they be on the lower end or higher end of the ability range, receive a stimulating educational experience. But most important, I also recognize that the “kids in the middle” want and hunger for that kind of learning as well.

It has been over 20 years since I saw Mr. Knight yet his influence has carried on throughout my 14 years as a classroom educator day after day.

Durdana Qureshi has eloquently described a woman who has been my best teacher also. Durdana has written my experience with my teacher when she states, “This person is someone who believed in me, perhaps more than I believed in myself.” This is one of her gifts, to see the strengths others have inside and then have the discernment and courage to tell that individual. She truly cares about her students and encourages you when you are willing to take steps to reach forward.

So, thank you, Dr. Meggin McIntosh, for your willingness to teach excellence. I imagine many others have greatly benefited from your desire for excellence. And, many others I see you influencing in the future.

Meggn

The high school math placement exam was coming and we practiced for two weeks, two hours a day – even one Saturday. The drill and kill routine dazed the class. T.A. was displeased about the class “checking out.” From of her pursed lips she barked, “Heads up, eyes forward, feet flat on the floor, backs straight, NOW!” I wished for the sound of the scratching chalkboard to keep me awake as she wrote simple algebra problems over and over again. As we continued to work, her full black habit slowly drifted down the aisle; her icy blue eyes pierced her prey for the slightest of infractions. No one dared slouch, sigh, or tap their foot. Her pale whitish pink skin turned red as she honed down on a nervous pupil. Michael squirmed often on this day. Finally, under pressure, he lost his composure.

Michael will be remembered forever as the kid that was denied the bathroom pass. He kept holding up his forefinger but he got the look; he knew, we all knew, when we all learned algebra, he could then take care of his business. An hour went by, then two. A dark yellow stream started at Michael’s desk, flowed under Patty’s, then crossed the aisle breaking off into tributary branches, a big one running toward my desk. Raising my feet, I let the mighty Mississippi move freely without ruining my freshly buffed white leather oxfords. As T.A. saw the chain effect of kids raising their feet and making eyes at the rising water table, her face went beet red as she screamed, “You are never to discuss this matter outside of this room!” Micheal struggled to stand in front of 50 of us; his empty dark eyes were focused on the beige floor tiles. With soaked gray pants hanging low on his waist, our eyes looked down at his black squeaky shoes as they moved slowly out the back door.

As a class, Michael’s embarrassment was our embarrassment. Anyone of us could have been in his place. From that point on, we did everything possible to avoid the marathon math lessons with T.A. We did our homework and we formed study groups after school. In turn, T.A. did allow “comfort breaks.” No one ever abused the privilege. She did eventually show us her kinder side. The school year ended and most of us did an exceptional job on the H.S. math entrance exam. Sister Teresa Ann’s military style persistence gave me the tools I needed to succeed. I was able to do math well. More important, was the faith I gained in myself. In 8th grade, Sr. Teresa Ann gifted me with confidence and self-discipline. It has been a gift of a lifetime! Thank you, Sister!

Katherine (Hagan) Hoffman
Class of 71’

Dr. McIntosh is my favorite teacher because she is quite refined in her teaching methods in preparing a career portfolio. I first met with Dr. McIntosh when I was attending a special project workshop in December 2001, a course offered by the University of Nevada, Reno. The class was offered on a compressed video feed to parts of rural Nevada, and focused on developing an extensive teaching portfolio. That one visit with her made me remember her for days on.

Dr. McIntosh is an amazing teacher because of her individual interactions with students and her sincere, genuine interest in her student’s work. She would often give multiple opportunities to her students and would even say, “I’m home on weekend, you can drop your assignment off at my home.” She’s encouraging and motivating, and has a variety of different teaching methods. That is something I respect and see in myself.

Dr. McIntosh is a master teacher. Her instructional skills are at the master level and her direction and procedures are clear to students. In my opinion, she has become an iconic figure at the University of Nevada, Reno. Dr. McIntosh is a perfect role model and establishes a high standard of education in her class. She is an enthusiastic teacher with much wisdom.

I would like to thank Dr. McIntosh for the wonderful experience she provided to me in her class. She instilled confidence within me that has encouraged me to be successful. I will never forget when she told me, “You are an amazing teacher and an asset to Washoe County School District.” Her impact on me was crucial in guiding me to become a positive role model, striving for excellence in my own classroom.

Durdana Qureshi

Fortunately, I had a wonderful teacher to guide me through just such an ordeal. Her name was Ms. Profraser. She taught English Literature to the juniors at my school. We can all list the kooky English teachers we’ve experienced, but Ms. Profraser was different. She was thoughtful and deliberate in her instruction. The homely girls got just as much attention as the comely girls. She made difficult concepts easy to grasp. I rarely spoke to my teachers, but I felt I could talk to Ms. Profraser.

During the year, Ms. Profraser assigned us a project that had to be presented to the class. I can’t remember exactly what the project was, but I do recall thinking I’d never be able to speak in coherent sentences in front of the whole class! When the day finally arrived, I stood in front of the class, my face burning with embarrassment as my peers strained to hear my barely audible voice. I desperately searched the class for comfort. My eyes found Ms. Profraser’s. My racing heart slowly calmed as I recognized from her eyes that she had confidence in me. My trembling voice evened out, and I was able to complete my presentation without expiring from fear.

Who knows what grade I earned; the memory that endures is that I was rescued by the confidence Ms. Profraser had in me. It was powerful. Ms. Profraser, thanks for helping this former homely girl succeed!

I plugged along and loved brimming over with intellectual knowledge that is usually reserved for lunch at the square in San Francisco. The first writing assignment was a response to Gilgamesh. I wrote insightfully and offered new ideas to contemplate. I turned in my paper sure I belonged in higher level education.

Red loops, red slashes, red question marks, red running all throughout my paper as she handed it back to me. Dr. Giddings didn’t even give me a grade. She wrote, ‘See me after class.’ in red. I stumbled back to my seat and told my Dad, who had just gotten his paper back, “I’m not cut out for college. I don’t belong here.”

I met with Dr. Giddings and she gave me the usual advice, go to the writing center, get a tutor, look for a book on MLA writing…etc. I teetered, and then finally asked if she would have time to meet with me to explain her expectations. We met at Starbucks on a Saturday afternoon and Dr. Giddings inspired me to learn everything and more.

My final paper came back scribbled on in red.

Temoca, after I pull myself together I must tell you honestly, this is a catharsis. In all my years of teaching I can tell you, you have a gift for writing. Write a book. Help others. Never stop learning.

Thank you, Dr. Janet Giddings. You have inspired me. And I don’t know how you did it, but you spoke my dreams out loud. I can only hope I will one day do as much for someone else.

~Temoca Dixon

I do not know if Mr. Foyle had ever personally moved from a small school to a large one during his formative years but he seemed to know exactly what I needed in order to feel safe because here I was, a shy little country bumpkin, in a new extremely overwhelming school situation. I didn’t realize it at the time how his small acts of genuine concern would be remembered in such a sensitive way in my heart because I see him now as a teacher who sincerely “saw” me and truly cared about who I was.

My father’s employment made it necessary for our family (mom, dad, me and three brothers) to move from our farm in southeastern Idaho to the sprawling metropolis of Phoenix, Arizona the summer between my fifth and sixth grade years. The school we had attended in Idaho was a quaint K-12 school with a total student body of under three hundred where we had one class per grade level, senior graduating classes or around twenty students, and where I knew everyone in the building – children and adults. Contrast that very comfortable environment with a new school setting where I found myself at a K-8 school where the sixth grade alone had four or five classes and where my brother’s new high school had almost four times the number of students our entire school had previously had. Culture shock! Oh my – there just aren’t the words to describe it and I discovered a shy side to myself I hadn’t previously known existed.

Sixth graders rotated for every subject which was a foreign practice to me. My desk was usually on the far right side of Mr. Foyle’s sixth grade English classroom, close to the wall and about half way back in the row of desks. Mr. Foyle was extremely tall and had bodily and facial features that amazingly resembled Abraham Lincoln. When he spoke, it was as a gentleman – deliberate, firm and regal yet extremely comforting and reassuring. I don’t remember him having to get after students very often. He showed students a great deal of respect and because of that, along with the fact that his very stature commanded ones attention, students seemed to reciprocate a dignified type of respect toward him.

I can visualize him pausing at my desk while handing back assignments, bending his tall frame down slightly to be able to look me in the eyes to say on various occasions things like: “This was the best work of the class, Lisa”, “Very beautiful handwriting, Lisa”, “Great job, Lisa”. He made a point of verbally making me aware of his admiration for my efforts and seemed to go out of his way to build me up in personal, quiet ways and of course, I worked extra hard so as not to ever disappoint him. Such small and simple gestures yet when I think of my time at that school, his face, that room is what comes to my mind first.

I know I quickly thanked Mr. Foyle on the last day of school that year but I never saw him again because we moved to another location that summer. I would surely love to let him know how much his kindness and genuine concern has meant to me over the past forty years. It’s amazing to think it’s been that long since sixth grade because so many of those memories are just like they happened yesterday. Mr. Foyle helped me weather a very difficult transition period in my childhood and I will forever be thankful. If I could, it would be nice to look him in the eyes and tell him thank you for “seeing” me when I felt like such a lost little fish in that very large ocean of a school.

Mrs. Sanchez accompanied me home that day and asked my mom for permission to take me to her house the next afternoon. I was thrilled when my mom said yes. I didn’t sleep much that night and I fidgeted in class most of the day. I was anticipating what was to come that afternoon. During the day I couldn’t help but wonder why she had invited me.

I really couldn’t come up with a plausible reason for the invitation. I was just a normal everyday kid. I wasn’t the smart kid, the cute kid, or even the teacher’s pet. I gave up trying to figure it out and I was glad she invited me.

The time finally arrived and we were in her car on our way to her house to see the babies. She showed me around her house and introduced me to her son. He was really tall. Of course, I was only eight. I thought we’d finally go outside to see the bunnies, but she offered me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. She knew that was my favorite snack. To be polite, I accepted. She said we could enjoy our snack outside in the garden. At last we were going outside. Finally! But, much to my dismay, I didn’t see any bunnies.

We did enjoy our snack in her beautiful garden. I remember feeling so grown-up, just sitting there having a girl to girl chat. Her garden smelled so good. There were lots of blooming flowers all around us. Once we were finished, she took me around to the side of her detached garage. The entire side of the garage wall was covered in little cages. She showed me a few older babies and I held a couple. The bunnies were so soft. Then, she took me over to a separate set of cages. She let me look in, but cautioned me not to touch the babies and not to make loud noises. She said the mommies would eat their babies if they got upset. I couldn’t imagine anything grosser than that. It made no sense to me.

Long before I was ready, it was time to go home. When she saw my disappointment, she said we could visit again sometime. On the way home, I remember thinking that there must be something special about me because she didn’t invite just anyone. Teachers don’t normally take students home. To this day, I still don’t know why she took me home. I just know that she touched a little girl in a very special way that she will never forget. Due to that experience, I have more confidence about my place in the world.

It is the example that Mrs. Sanchez demonstrated that I remember most. She wore the most welcoming smile. The smile is the strongest memory I have of her. She also possessed tremendous patience; I remember asking her question after question. It amazed me that she never seemed to tire of the inquisition. It didn’t matter the subject; she would answer every question. Most of all, she took time to learn about the child, the student.

This is what I try to take with me to school everyday. I make every effort to show the students that I believe in them and in their abilities to accomplish what they think they cannot. Often, it only takes a few kind, personal words to make a difference. I pray everyday that I am successful at building confidence in students. It is important to me to see the whole student and not just the academic student. One student, Luis, gave me a glimpse of hope that I may have been successful. He will never know how much that little glimpse means to me. I will remember Mrs. Sanchez and Luis for all time. Mrs. Sanchez showed me how to care and build confidence and Luis showed that I can accomplish it.

He no longer wanders the dimly lit, crowded halls. He no longer warmly greets new students with that genuine, gleaming-white, toothy smile…welcoming the lost to “come on in.” That same bright smile appeared in his sparkling, jet-black eyes…seeming to open the doors to the cold, shadowy hall…making anyone feel safe, wanted, and truly cared for as they enter their new surroundings at Traner Middle School, I remember that terrified feeling as I peered out the steamed up windows of the overcrowded, yellow school bus.

WE had all grown up together, attended the same school…even if we didn’t always have the same teachers. WE…the soon to be 6th graders from Sun Valley Elementary in the mid 70’s…all heard the gruesome stories about gang fights, drugs, having to “dress out” and shower for P.E. in front of others, and being assaulted in the hallway bathrooms without anyone knowing by “those black kids.“ WE were the “outsiders from Scum Valley” being bussed to the “Hood” where the “Crips” and the “Bloods” were prevalent. WE were the first group of 6th graders to venture into middle school…WE were the new kids on the block, taking that first timid step off of the noise-filled bus onto the silent and still black asphalt walkway that led up to those doors of doom.

Coach Shade was as “cool” as his name. You knew from the day he welcomed you in…that you could trust him with anything, be yourself, and share anything dark in your life. He stood up for you when others of color treated you badly and called you names just because you were white. I remember when I performed a sorry dance in a long dress for the talent show…I looked across the gym…no parents…just kids giggling a bit and pointing…but he smiled and clapped…even though I had no rhythm to dance to “Brick House.”

I look back, reminiscing about the comfort he gave, joking with him, laughing with him about being twins (we shared the same birthday, June 3rd…however he was black and I was white), crying on his shoulder when others were picking on me or when my “first love” dumped me just before the Sweetheart’s Valentine dance. Or what about just being a nerdy, awkward, GT kid with ADHD that alienated herself from just about every sport or new thing I tried?

Did I mention that he was NEVER my teacher in PE or any other class? He taught me so much about humor in life (especially when it seems like death to a preteen), what is important (those whose lives you touch), and what isn’t (what others think of you)…and acceptance. He helped me to accept myself during a very awkward time in my life, I was a late bloomer in all ways, my parents were divorcing, and I was leaving the comforts of my neighborhood to be bussed into a neighborhood that my parents had moved from to provide me a better education and life. Did I tell you that he now lives (and has for many years) in my neighborhood?

The best part is…my most recent memory…a way he touched my life, was to give me a gift that I once gave him. He had saved a poem/letter that I had written to him for our “last twin birthday” at the end of my 8th grade year. The paper had aged, yellowed with time…the ink not quite as vibrant as it once had been. He had saved it for all of years! I couldn’t believe it! He gave it to me for my 40th birthday in front of my dad, my husband, and my family.

I’m fortunate as I occasionally see him now…at least once a year, usually in the spring at Gepford Ballpark …walking around with that same gleaming-white, toothy smile, greeting every one of his former students, their aging parents, their children, and in some cases their grandchildren, as he did that very first day of school. “Wow…” I thought to my self…”I always thought it was just for me!”

Some of us are still lost—others still finding our way…his weathered yet still sparkling, jet-black eyes…making us feel safe, wanted, and truly cared for…still holding that door open toward our destiny. And…if I were to enter the halls of Traner Middle School as I once did so long ago, he would always be a permanent fixture to me.