Ode to teachers

I was thinking of posting about teachers, then Lilian wrote a post on her past teachers, which sparked my grey cells further. So many of our childhood memories are based on the teachers we had. Teachers are such a central component of education - they can spur you or scar you.

I had one primary school teacher, Mrs K, who traumatised me so much that it left an indelible mark on my memory. She was a bitter, bitter woman, I suspect largely because she didn’t have a son. This is NOT a judgmental statement against parents with daughters, it was an open fact that she yearned for a son and was very disappointed she couldn’t have one. She kept trying and finally stopped at 4 daughters. She often lashed out at her students and was pretty much hated throughout the school. (She once threw a girl’s school bag out the window down 3 floors).

But here’s the awful part: she lived in the same block of HDB flats as my family, so she and my parents knew each other. You would think that would make her nicer to me and my sister, but NO. She would be hypocritically friendly and polite in front of my parents, but in school, would often single me out to pick on. Once, half the class forgot to do something but she only yelled at and punished me.

It got pretty bad, I was terrified of her. I’m not sure why she hated me so much. I was extremely quiet and bookish, never the trouble-making type. Maybe because at that time, her eldest daughter was also in the school and about the same age as me, so she was, in some insane manner, threatened by my good academic performance. She even tried to turn my other teachers against me (a teacher persecuting a primary school kid! What’s up with that??) I know this because another very kind teacher who had a soft spot for me later told me how she had always supported me despite Mrs K’s crazy rants.

I’m pretty sure I said something to my father but in those days, complaining about teachers wasn’t the done thing (plus my father is absolutely the non-confrontational type) so I think the inaction fuelled her malice further. I know Mrs K continued to teach until her retirement recently. Why are these teachers allowed to ruin young lives? They should be locked up in a box and shipped far, far away from children.

My point is that the impact of a teacher on a child’s life is enormous. When I think back, the teachers I love the most are not the ones who taught well or the ones who were most interesting – they are the ones who were most supportive. My late piano teacher, who taught me for a decade and remained a close friend for the next 15 years, was someone I cherished because she believed in me and taught me to believe in myself. She was more like a mother to me than a teacher, always there to counsel or just to lend a listening ear. I was pretty devastated when she passed on.

So often we become who we are because of our teachers. If you think about it, during our schooling years, we frequently spend more time in proximity with them than with our own parents. How many times have you heard a successful person acknowledge Teacher XX “for inspiring me to pursue my dreams” or “for making me believe I can achieve whatever I put my mind to”? Too many to count, I bet.

On the other side of the coin, as I’ve described, we also remember the ones who DON’T believe in us. Ironically, I wonder how much this plays in spurring achievement. I read a story about Olympian Michael Phelps, how he suffered from ADHD and his teacher told his mother, “Your son will never be able to focus on anything”. Famous last words.

On his Life Thru A Lens album, pop superstar Robbie Williams wrote this poem:

Hello Sir, remember me?
I'm the man you thought I'd never be
The boy who you reduced to tears
Lad called 'thingy' for six whole years.

Yes, that's right, my name's Bob
The one who landed the pop star's job
The one you told, look don't touch
The kid who wouldn't amount to much.

Well, I'm here and you're still there
With a fake sports car and receding hair.
Dodgy Farah trousers that you think are smart
Married to the woman who teaches art.

Married to the life, married to the school
I wanna sing and dance Sir; now who's the fool?
Sing and dance, you thought I was barmy
Settle down thingy, join the army.

And who are you to tell me this?
The dream I want I'll have to miss
Sir is God, he's been given the right
To structure lives overnight.

Now I know life's true path
Tanks and guns that'll be a laugh
No, not me I'm a mega civilian
I won't lead my life riding pillion.

But thanks for the advice and I'm sure it'll do
For the negative dickheads just like you.
As for now I've a different weapon
Stage and screen is about to beckon.

And here I sit in first class
Bollocks Sir, kiss my arse.

Bad boy Robbie is all about shock and controversy, but you can clearly hear the antipathy and vulnerability in his lyrics. I wonder how much of Robbie’s success was triggered by his determination to "prove 'em wrong".

So interestingly enough, uninspired teachers can elicit success from students as much as inspired teachers, though unwittingly so. But I know which ones get my thanks.