When I cast my mind back to my favourite teachers, at Primary, Intermediate or High School, I think of four teachers in particular that stand out. Funnily enough for a lot of the same reasons. They weren't necessarily the 'nicest' teachers, the kind ones (although they were all kind in their own ways). They stood out because they challenged me. Believed in me. And I liked that.
In Primary School it was Mr H that stands out above the rest. Smiley eyes and a thick black moustache are what I remember about his face. A kind face. A warm heart but watch out if you crossed him. I remember learning to really love reading in his class. Sitting in rows facing the blackboard in the silent classroom. The only sound to be heard, the turning of crisp pages. I remember him reading to us, chapter books that held us enthralled for hours, I never wanted him to stop. He was tough. High standards. But I knew he believed in me.
Mr N is next in the succession line of schooling at Intermediate. A good friend to this very day, Mr N was all about relationships. He was warm, funny and trusting. But again he was someone you didn't want to get on the bad side of. He was patient and fair, but when you lost his trust you knew it, and it was a hard road back. From Mr N I learned to be myself. He pushed me to not be like my friends, wasn't afraid to say so out loud and challenged me to believe in myself as a learner. He was tough. High standards. But I knew he believed in me.
At High School Mr W-J was the first teacher to scare me, challenge me and believe in me. He was a veteran of the high school, teaching my father and many before him. Photos of him show that he never aged a day in the decades he taught at the school. From Mr W-J I learned to love science, to become passionate about my world. He could be terrifying, glaring at you from behind his overhead projector screen where day in and day out he would scrawl notes for us to copy diligently into our books. I loved being in his class. I was the first ever recipient of the trophy in his namesake and am proud to this day to have been awarded it from him. He was tough, extremely tough. High standards. But I knew he believed in me.
Then there is Mr S. Mr S taught Economics, a subject I had neither much like nor much dislike for. I was okay at it. It was Mr S that made the class one of my favourites to go to. He was hilarious. Tough as nails but funny as anything. He had a bellow that could scare the living daylights out of you, but if you held his trust you were fine. He was passionate about what he taught. From him I learned the value of hard work, that you needed to give your all to be satisfied. He was tough. High standards. But I knew he believed in me.
Finally, as a newly fledged teacher, my last favourite Mrs R. She was assigned to be my tutor teacher and she was pretty polarising. People either loved her or found her very hard to like. I was in the former camp, luckily. She marched to the beat of her own drum. Held you accountable for everything that you should be held accountable for, no excuses even if you were a Beginning Teacher. From her I learnt to really love and value each of my students. To place them in the highest regard and nurture them to their full potential. She passed away nearly a decade ago and the world lost a wonderful teacher and beautiful person in her passing. She was tough. High standards. But I knew she believed in me.
I have taken pieces of all my favourites from over the years as I have moulded myself into the teacher I always wanted to be. I would like to think I have managed to capture some of their qualities in my own teaching practice and manner. I know the value of a student knowing that their teacher believes in them. In my book it is the most powerful gift a teacher can give a child. I must write them each a letter someday soon thanking them for the gifts and lessons they bestowed upon me. I am eternally grateful.
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