If I wanted to simplify things greatly, I’d say the difference between Mrs. Hughes and Miss Case had to do with appreciation.
Mrs. Hughes was my 6th-grade teacher at Lincoln Elementary School in Niles, Ohio. When I walked into her classroom on the first day of school in September 1969, she greeted me with a smile and asked my name. When I told her, her face lit up, and she said, “You must be Darrell’s brother!” Guilty as charged. I didn’t realize it, but she told me she had him as a student two years earlier.
And still, she met me with a smile! Seriously, my brother must have made a positive impression, because Mrs. Hughes seemed to be glad to have me in her class.
Introductions made, she showed me my desk. Front row, window aisle, right in front of the teacher’s desk.
I know, you’re thinking maybe she expected trouble…maybe my brother hadn’t made such a good impression after all. In retrospect, I’ll admit that’s a possibility. But Mrs. Hughes made me feel that mine was a place of honor, as if she really appreciated me, was thankful I was in her class.
It Shows
I can’t recall all the ways Mrs. Hughes showed that appreciation—it was a few years ago, after all. A couple of incidents stand out, though.
The 5th- and 6th-grade classes combined and assembled in the school cafeteria (which doubled as an “auditorium” for school programs) for Music class. The music teacher had to have been a fresh recruit—a recent college grad—with zero experience motivating 10- and 11-year-old boys to sing. Most wouldn’t; some goofed off quite a bit.
And Miss Music lost it.
She stormed out of the cafeteria and a minute later returned with our respective teachers. All the girls were dismissed back to their classrooms; all the boys had to line up against the wall. Miss Porco, the youngest and most athletic of the teachers in the room, had her paddle. Yes, you read that right. A paddle. To apply to the seat of learning of every one of these naughty, unruly boys.
I’m not sure how this all worked out. Miss Porco had administered some brutal swats on a couple of behinds. Tears were shed. But well before my turn came, I was able to make an appeal to Mrs. Hughes.
“Why should I get a paddling?” I asked. “I was singing! I like to sing!”
She stepped away, spoke to Miss Music for a brief moment, and returned.
“Go back to the room, Bryan.” Mrs. Hughes instructed.
I felt appreciated. Well, by Mrs. Hughes. The other boys? Not so much.
On another occasion, Mrs. Hughes was teaching a lesson in Science class. Not sure if the topic was biology or astronomy or geology, but the textbook referred to whatever being the result of millions of years of evolutionary development. Mrs. Hughes knew science was my favorite subject. But she also knew my dad was a minister and that we believed in the Genesis account of creation, rather than in the theory of evolution. She actually made a point to come to my desk, lower her voice to a near whisper, and say, “You don’t have to believe this, but I have to say what the book says.”
Little did I recognize the significance of the little gesture. In essence, she was saying, “I appreciate you.”
Feeling appreciated is a powerful motivator.
It motivated me to invest more interest in science. And at Mrs. Hughes’ encouragement, I entered the science fair that year with an exhibit on microscopes—and actually won!
It motivated me to come back the day after school let out for the summer to help Mrs. Hughes pack up things in the classroom and do some cleaning for her. She treated me and another student to lunch at Woolworths. We felt truly appreciated.
Miss Case
Fast forward two years. In a new town, new state, knowing almost no one at my new school. First day of 8th grade Science class, I walked into Miss Case’s classroom, my interest in science still strong. I was looking forward to the class!
But it didn’t seem that Miss Case was looking forward to teaching it at all!
Pursed lips. Not exactly a scowl, but certainly no smile. Perhaps her look spoke of indifference…just another year with another crop of silly adolescents.
Instead of being appreciated, it seems we were…tolerated. Sometimes. Never did she express verbally or otherwise that she was thankful to have us as students. I don’t recall ever seeing Miss Case smile.
But she could frown and scowl and scold and cajole and punish.
I’ll never forget the day she left the room for a few minutes and ordered us to remain silent in our seats. Of course, ten seconds after the door closed, chatter started. The kid sitting next to me said something; I didn’t reply. As soon as the doorknob turned, silence returned.
Ah, but Miss Case was savvy to the ways of 8th graders.
“I know talking was going on while I was out, and I told you to remain silent. If you were talking or someone was talking to you, then raise your hand,” she ordered.
Ok…that’s a rather odd demand, I thought. But my neighbor was talking to me, so I guess I have to raise my hand.
With our hands still in the air, she made a notation in her grade book next to our names.
“Those who raised their hands are to write a two-page report on [something having to do with science],” She barked. “And it’s due Friday!” – three days later.
What would you do?
I appealed my case to Miss Case.
“You told us to remain silent, and I did. Why should I have to write a paper?” I asked.
“Were you listening to someone talking to you?” She replied.
“Well, yes. How could I help it? Was I supposed to plug my ears?”
“Then you were communicating. You need to write the paper,” she concluded.
“That’s not fair. You didn’t say anything about not listening. You said to remain silent, and I did!”
“You’ll write the paper!”
“I’m not going to do it.”
“You will!”
“No, I won’t!”
“We’ll see.”
End of discussion.
I didn’t write the paper by Friday. She ordered me to sit in the back of the classroom and I would get a zero for every day until I wrote the paper. She threatened me with failing Science class.
I never wrote the paper. My report card said “D-“ It’s the lowest grade I ever received in any class in my entire school career. No teacher made me feel less appreciated than Miss Case.
And Miss Case succeeded in killing any interest I’d had in science.
[Looking back from the vantage point of decades of lived experience, I feel sorry for her. I wonder why she was like that…what was her life like outside of Lombard Junior High? Was she lonely? Depressed? Grieving over some unspoken hurt?]
Surprise!
The thing that sent me down this journey along memory lane was what happened this past Sunday at church.
I finished my sermon, the closing hymn, and benediction. I was about to dismiss everyone when the Chairman of Deacons quickly came to the platform.
“This is Pastor Appreciation Sunday,” he announced, “and we hope you don’t have any plans because we’ve set up a luncheon for you and Chris in the Fellowship Hall, and everyone wants you to stay.”
I didn’t see that coming at all. No idea. Total surprise.
And what a delightful surprise it was!
Tables were set up and nicely decorated. The lunch was delicious. Several gave us cards. Others spoke words of appreciation. No one had to do any of what they did…but they did it anyway.
We truly felt appreciated. Unworthy of it, but appreciated nonetheless. And my, how I appreciate the people I have the privilege of serving. I’m unduly blessed!
Appreciating others. This may be one area we too easily overlook, and instead of consciously appreciating, we too easily take each other for granted.
Yet Paul the Apostle, I believe offers a good example of thoughtful appreciation we would do well to emulate.
Listen to how he begins the following letters:
“First, I thank my God through Jesus Christ for all of you….” (Romans 1:8)
“I give thanks to my God always for you because of the grace of God that was given you in Christ Jesus,” (1 Corinthians 1:4)
“I do not cease to give thanks for you, remembering you in my prayers,” (Ephesians 1:16)
“I thank my God in all my remembrance of you,” (Philippians 1:3)
“We always thank God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, when we pray for you,” (Colossians 1:3)
“We give thanks to God always for all of you, constantly mentioning you in our prayers,” (1 Thessalonians 1:2)
“I thank my God always when I remember you in my prayers,” (Philemon 4)
And I have to ask myself, “When was the last time I spoke affirming words of appreciation to my spouse, my loved ones, my friends, my co-laborers in the ministry?”
Ouch. Another area where I need to grow.
