A Tribute to Real Teachers.
I was in the fourth grade when I would discover the heart of a true teacher.
All my young life would be spent traveling from state to state and continent to continent while my father served his country as a military man.
I was a poor student. Withdrawn and shy but not shy enough to stop me from creating a disturbance in my class. I was acting up and playing the clown when my teacher Ms. Beard finally had enough. She had scolded me for the last time.
What she did next would change my world.
Instead of sending me to the office or sending home another scathing note about how poorly I had behaved that week, she tried something different.
She pulled an empty school desk next to hers and reached in her drawer and pulled out a new box of crayons. She opened our history book to a section we had not yet studied. She summoned me to the back of the room to sit next to her.
She sat me down and gave me a job. She told me to draw one of the illustrations in the book. She told me to do it as good as I could and handed me the new box of crayons. She also told me she didn't want to hear another peep out of me.
That's not a punishment, I thought. A new box of crayons was like Christmas to me. I spent the day drawing and coloring my rendition of the artwork in our history book. At the end of the day, she didn't say a word. And during the day, surprisingly, neither did I. She picked up the drawing I had been working on. Walked to the front of the room and tacked it up on the wall above the blackboard. You know, that area where we all remember seeing the alphabet.
The next day I came to school and once again was asked to sit next to her and draw the next illustration in our history book. That so-called punishment went on for a week until I had completed an entire series. At the end of each day, she would do the same thing. She would pick it up and tack it above the blackboard along with the previous day's work.
On Monday, we all came to school and I was so excited to get back to school. This whole week of 'creative play' excited me like nothing else had. I took my seat at the desk near hers and couldn't wait for my next assignment.
It didn't happen.
Instead, she moved to the front of the room and while standing under the colorful collection of images that chronicled 'the way the west was won,' Ms. Beard began to share this history lesson with her students while using my artwork to tell the story. And at the end of the session, she gave me credit for having drawn this incredible rendition of American history.
She discovered my talent and I discovered myself.
I was in the fourth grade when I would discover the heart of a true teacher.
All my young life would be spent traveling from state to state and continent to continent while my father served his country as a military man.
I was a poor student. Withdrawn and shy but not shy enough to stop me from creating a disturbance in my class. I was acting up and playing the clown when my teacher Ms. Beard finally had enough. She had scolded me for the last time.
What she did next would change my world.
Instead of sending me to the office or sending home another scathing note about how poorly I had behaved that week, she tried something different.
She pulled an empty school desk next to hers and reached in her drawer and pulled out a new box of crayons. She opened our history book to a section we had not yet studied. She summoned me to the back of the room to sit next to her.
She sat me down and gave me a job. She told me to draw one of the illustrations in the book. She told me to do it as good as I could and handed me the new box of crayons. She also told me she didn't want to hear another peep out of me.
That's not a punishment, I thought. A new box of crayons was like Christmas to me. I spent the day drawing and coloring my rendition of the artwork in our history book. At the end of the day, she didn't say a word. And during the day, surprisingly, neither did I. She picked up the drawing I had been working on. Walked to the front of the room and tacked it up on the wall above the blackboard. You know, that area where we all remember seeing the alphabet.
The next day I came to school and once again was asked to sit next to her and draw the next illustration in our history book. That so-called punishment went on for a week until I had completed an entire series. At the end of each day, she would do the same thing. She would pick it up and tack it above the blackboard along with the previous day's work.
On Monday, we all came to school and I was so excited to get back to school. This whole week of 'creative play' excited me like nothing else had. I took my seat at the desk near hers and couldn't wait for my next assignment.
It didn't happen.
Instead, she moved to the front of the room and while standing under the colorful collection of images that chronicled 'the way the west was won,' Ms. Beard began to share this history lesson with her students while using my artwork to tell the story. And at the end of the session, she gave me credit for having drawn this incredible rendition of American history.
She discovered my talent and I discovered myself.
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