Thanking teachers

The other day I read a long, lovely email from Kathryn, one of my students last year, thanking me for everything and being the closest thing to a Morrie in her life. Unexpected expressions of gratitude like this never cease to blow me away. I don't know if students are aware how much it means to a teacher to receive the simplest of thanks-- a kind word, a short note, a copy of an original poem or story, even a bone-crushing hug (paging Alexis Go!) is enough to make all the hours of lesson planning, delivering lectures and checking papers worth it. I remember the first time I heard the words "you're a good teacher" said to my face (I bet the student doesn't even remember saying it... guess who you are ;p); it was one of the best highs I've ever experienced. A few weeks back another former student, Jo, sent an email to her teachers conveying her appreciation and respect for both the profession and the people who practice it. Reading it made me feel validated, and extremely proud to have been a teacher, and a teacher to this student.

Looking back, I realize that I too did my share in thanking my own teachers. In the last days of my senior year in Ateneo, I wrote several thank you letters to teachers who had made my college years memorable and meaningful. One of them was my Romantic Lit prof, Dr. Emmanuel Torres, who was one of the most terrifying teachers I've ever had, but from whom I learned so much about literature and writing. More than anyone, he helped prepare me for what would be my turn to teach literature (of course I was never as scary as he was). Another was my Modern History teacher Mr. Jo-ed Tirol, or Sir Tirol as I refer to him, even now after 7 long years since I took his class. He is my favorite teacher of all time, and though I hesitate to become mushy (especially when it comes to talking about him, since we are both adamant closet saps), he is my own Morrie, and if it weren't for him, my passion for teaching would probably have never been rekindled. I recall writing in the letter I left for him: "You are the kind of teacher I want to become." I don't know if I ever did become that kind of teacher, but he certainly was my inspiration in trying. Since that letter, he has become my mentor and confidante and big brother and friend, and he has helped me preserve my emotional and mental stability over the years of heartaches and headaches I have gone through (both related and unrelated to teaching ;p).

What about my high school teachers? Raqs and I just talked about this the other day; as high school friends are wont to do, we sometimes get to reminiscing about certain teachers who left an impression on us (though not necessarily a good one). I had few good teachers in high school, sadly, but those I did like made their subjects a joy and not a chore: Mrs. Bumatay for English, Mr. Deraya for Bio, Ms. Celis for Physics. I wish I had thanked them before I graduated from high school. But the one who actually had a direct influence in my decision to teach was my 4th year English teacher (whom I shall not name out of professional courtesy, hah). However, it was only because she made me think, I want to become an English teacher so I can not become an English teacher like her. So in a way, I also thank her, for she fueled my determination to pursue teaching, in a twisted kind of way.

We didn't cut our high school teachers enough slack, I admit. Some of them were teaching several year levels at the same time, with classes having as many as 60 students, boys and girls (there is a certain brand of mischief only girls are capable of, and another that only boys can exercise, but it's a completely different kind of havoc that a mix of girls and boys can wreak upon their teachers). I suppose I never gave my teachers enough credit, and it's only now, after having taught for 2 years, that I can acknowledge their efforts and concede that under those hellish circumstances, they weren't all that bad. I wouldn't want to have me as a student, and for putting up with me, and giving me enough of an education, quality or not, I salute them, and am grateful to them. Thanks, 'chers.