Home Forums Hunting & Shooting Hunter's Campfire Your English Teacher?

I went to school in small town USA. I had the same English teacher in grades 9-12, she was kin to me, went to the same church as we did, and taught my Mom and Dad.

Early teachers were nuns or lay teachers in parochial school. They must have done a more than adequate job though, as when I graduated to public HS I was ahead of the game they were playing there.

9th or 10th Grade English teacher was a Mrs. White. I read a lot of books she didn't assign, many times while in her class. I am a compulsive reader though and had learned to skim stuff I didn't really want to read and was able to pass quizzes about her assigned reading with relative ease. We had a vocabulary quiz every Friday and I passed all of those quite handily too, as many of the words had been taught to me in the Kath O Lick skool years previously.

The best thing about Mrs. White's class was getting kicked out of it for eating crow baits (Corn Nuts). At that time, I was getting up at 0500 or earlier to do a paper route, eat breakfast, have coffee, and get to school around 0700. Her class was after the morning break I believe. We didn't have lunch, our school had split shifts, upper classes 0700-1330 or so, freshman 1000-1630 or so. Because I have to eat every few hours I was hungry around the time of her class, I usually didn't have time to get enough food in during the 15 minute break. What growing ravenous 16 year old healthy male specimen does? One day, eating Corn Nuts while reading an assigned chapter or something, she heard the crunching from the front of the class, stomped down the aisle between desks, grabbed my bag of crow baits from the desktop and grumped at me about eating in her class. Back to the front and her desk she goes. A few minutes pass and out from the other shirt pocket comes my second bag of Corn Nuts ! I was shortly asked (loudly I might add, as she was PISSED) to take a trip to the principals office. Yippee,a break of sorts from the boredom; but realize this, it was probably sophomore year and by then I was known to the vice principal in charge of discipline, perhaps not on a first name basis............yet. I think I ended up getting sent to "study hall" for that period, and perhaps even another period after school, nothing major after explaining the situation to him. Back to English class the next day to figure out a "solution". ( I had problems with the study hall monitor also, go figure)

The story gets better now. We were assigned a number of written papers in Mrs. White's class (college preparatory English) along with a "final" oral presentation. Everyone had to come up with something along the lines of a "demonstration" of sorts. Well, my HS buddy Harvey and I came up with a plan. Harvey was not particularly enamored of Mrs. White either. She was OK, certainly not an eyesore, pleasant enough to look at and usually pleasant as far as teachers go, but she could be a bit of a taskmaster and quite strict about conduct in class. Harvey probably had a run-in or two with her so we made the perfect pair to carry out our plan.

Harvey shows up to class with some sammich makin's, bread, mustard, lettuce, bologna and such. His presentation for the morning? "How to assemble the perfect bologna sandwich".

Harvey's last initial is "R". Mine is "S". I can't remember if I followed directly after his, I believe so. My presentation/demonstration for the day?

"How to Eat the Perfect Bologna Sandwich"

So lady, hows abouts ya' sends me to the principal's office for eatin' in your classroom now?

I believe I got a little chuckle out of her that day............... or maybe it was a snort of derision?

I did pretty good overall in her class, getting high marks on the weekly quizzes and writing at a fairly educated level helped. I was, as always, since kindergarten/first grade, saddled with my attitude towards authority and did not get an "A" as I recall.

Plenty of other stories about HS that are somewhat humorous too. Wabi just has to ask the correct questions.

Geno

My 7th and 8th grade English teacher had taught my Dad. He was the salutatorian of his class, and I was just an average student.....and she reminded me of that nearly every day.

My senior H.S. English teacher was fresh out of college. First year teaching in H.S. Built like the proverbial brick outhouse. And a total femi-nazi before there were femi-nazi's... 20 kids in the class. 14 girls and maybe 6 guys. 4 of the girls tied for Valedictorian. A couple of the guys had to take their shoes off to count to 20. Teacher's favorite "learning opportunity" was to have a spelling bee. Girls versus the boys. Start off with everyone standing. If you missed a word, you sat down. Pizzed her off to no end when I would sit down her four female valedictorians and be the last "man" standing...

Have not seen her since graduation. Have not missed her for one second. However, she did teach me that I needed to cover my six when working around feminists in the work place...

"Me fail English? That's unpossible!" --Bart Simpson


Okie John

Mr. Shank, 7th grade, must have spent a lot of time as a pitcher. More than once, I noticed movement, and saw a friend disappear in a cloud of chalk dust from the eraser, or get hit with the chalk. Never caught him peeking and he never missed.

I kept my mouth shut, he taught me something.

I went to Catholic school, my senior English teacher was a brother (male nun). He predicted that I would flunk college English. I minored in English turns out my college instructors really liked the way I wrote.

My mom's oldest sister started teaching elementary school about 1940. She retired with tenure as an english prof at What is now Texas State. She taught 3rd grade to most of my old hunting compadres in Llano Tx about 1947. She taught English, Spanish, and Texas History at Marble Falls high school from About 1955 to 1967. I would not have liked to have had her as a freshman english prof. She was tough as nails.

One of my old hunting buds and ranchers in Llano said she was the best teacher he ever had!! He really liked her!

She used to look at me and shake her head and say, a brain is a terrible thing to waste! LOL!

I had a couple of very, very good English teachers. Mrs. Roberts was an older, large woman who greatly resembled a bird of prey. Being the meek, good student that I was, I both feared and respected her. She taught me a great deal. She was wise enough to have her potential problems seated front and center. One day, she was writing on the board when one of the front-and-centers, we'll call him Duane, farted. Being of mature years, Mrs. Roberts did not hear all that clearly. Her assessment of the situation was that someone had said something. For whatever reason, she felt that it had been The Claw. She turned on him and demanded to know what it was that he had said. Caught off guard by being accused of having done something on one of the rare occasions when he had not, his response was merely a sort of moronic grin. Angered by what she took as a refusal to provide an answer, she came across his face with a slap that shook the windows. When her repeated question went unanswered (What was he going to do, say, "Duane farted"?), she came back across with a backhand that surpassed the first blow. I don't really remember how this all ended, but we were certainly impressed.

And these days she'd be in jail for battery.

The writing and English teachers through the first 10 grades were good or better. However, Dr. Leah Jordan was waiting with her overarching vocabulary, huge dictionary, absolute command of the language and expectations beyond belief. Her reputation preceded, but not one among that express class was prepared for the erudition and discipline awaiting.

On the first day, that slight, red-haired, 28 year-old dynamo swept into the room at opening bell, stared us down to quick silence, and delivered a captivating lecture on the beauty of the language, our dire need to learn and use it, and exactly how we would do so. That bunch of otherwise successful and rather unflappable students was stunned. English never was the same again.

We wrote in a personal journal every day of that year - Sundays and holidays included - and those little tomes had better include thoughts as well as observations as well as new words and phrases. The journal was placed on her desk every Monday and came back the next day - with her pointed notations. We read and analyzed everything from "The Good Earth" (P.S. Buck) to "The Caine Mutiny" (H. Wouk) and several Shakespeare plays - including some acting. She got Wouk's "Marjorie Morningstar" the moment it was published and within a day or two told us it was very disappointing in comparison to his earlier work. We then were assigned to analyze the book and write a paper explaining why she panned it.

From among the students in her four 11th grade classes, Dr. Jordan selected a group of 12 who were invited to be "capstone" students. That senior class emphasized creative writing and much deeper analysis of literature - although the rules of grammar always were in play and reinforced. All ensuing college and university lit and writing experiences were easy in comparison. I have owed her beyond measure.

Leah Jordan had graduated from that same high school, worked through her undergraduate, Master and Ph.D studies and immediately came back to that school with intent to be a master teacher. She succeeded beyond explanation. At all times her appearance and demeanor were impeccable. She wore colorful and tastefully tailored ladies' suits with a classy dress sprinkled in here and there, was as impersonal as a devoted and classy teacher could be, and constantly applied genteel discipline. She never married and, upon experiencing eventual degradation of the local high school population, went forward as an outstanding college teacher. Her teaching was a powerful experience for me - a lifetime memory.

Mrs. Brown. Best teacher i ever had. I was doing terrible in english. If i didn't pass english i wouldn't graduate. Some how she got me through. Passed the final exam and graduated.

CCCC,

You were/are a lucky man to have had the type of teaching Dr. Jordan provided.

Her work shows in your writing.

Geno

In a twist of fate, my dad graduated high school in Chattanooga TN....

I graduated High School, in Springfield VA in 1970...600 miles north of Chattanooga.

One quarter my senior year, I had an English Teacher for a semester, that turned out
to be the same old battleaxe...

My dad dropped me off at school one day, in his uniform no less....and this woman
was in the principal's office... 20 something years after the fact, she recognized him
but said nothing...

I had been in her class like a week, and after that, she asked was my dad from Chattanooga...
I told her yes... She told me that she had "failed his ass" in high school English, as well
as each one of my Uncles, which she ticked their names off in a row...

She told me I wasn't going to pass English this semester either...which I didn't..

So my senior year English grades were for each semester, A...A... F...A...

She was way in her 60s in 1970....so I guess set in her ways..

I asked my dad, what had he and his brothers do to piss her off... he said he had no idea..
She failed all 10 boys in his family, but passed his two sisters with flying colors...

and at least one of their nephews...

Thanks, Valsdad - and yes, very fortunate. Would be sad if I were to mess that up, eh?

Mine was very mean. She didn’t care for males.

I had one in Junior High, who had a speech impediment. He also was the announcer at our football games. That was a hoot! Another was an Italian immigrant, with a hellacious accent. His English was technically perfect, but man, you had a hell of a time understanding him!

Didn't have any hotties for English teachers, so those were the standouts.

Jeff

Had two memorable English teachers in HS.
One was a WW2 vet, got shot by German sniper twice. Great guy and cool teacher.
The other was some 40 ish milf type that sent letters to my mom about how good a student I was.............
Like an idiot I missed out on some "my age" trim and "older" trim being pretty much clueless.
Was actually a decent student.

Mom was strict as heck on spelling/grammar.

Got popped if you botched it.

I switched to engineering and after a couple of yrs on the job, working with engineers from all over the US/world.............my spelling and writing went to chit.
Did end up doing some stuff for my old boss, a supposed superstar, award winner...............he wrote like a moron.
Cleaned up his and a few others papers/reports.

In contrast to you Gentlemen my education was sadly lacking.

I was taught by Nuns.

Almost didn't graduate because of my Senior English teacher tho I already had scholarships to college. She was one of those high school teachers that never really left high school, she liked the popular kids, cheerleaders, football team etc and I weren't one of those.

But the English teacher I really recall was in England when I was 12, not sure what grade that would translate to here. I was attending an all boys Catholic school run by an order of Irish monks. Old school in the sense of British Isles old school. Uniforms, ink pens ( ball point pens not allowed), Latin, Algebra way ahead of when we get it here, History class as befitting a Nation with 2,000 years of recorded history, rugby (and no soccer) all backed up by the stern application of the lash. Said lash in the form of a leather razor strop looking think that all the Masters (teachers) carried.

You got the strap for everything, laid across the palms. Late homework, talking out of turn, everything, laid on right there in class. I dreaded that place, but at least ya learned not to be a sissy. In return the teachers had to be tough too, once we learned to tolerate the strap (hurt like a mofo) that was all they had short of expulsion, and we could make a teacher's life Hell. In some cases it was open war. One time a Brother snapped entirely, flailing away in his robe with the strap at a kid who was needling him, the kid curling up on the floor trying to ward off the blows. Other teachers from adjacent rooms ran in and dragged him off.

Next day he was back in the classroom, business as usual, we didn't hold it against him, we knew that kid had picked the fight, and a wary sort of truce prevailed between that kid and the guy for the rest of the school year. Geeze, how differently this would all go down today. Sadly, as was so common in Catholic institutions back then, it came out in later years at least one of the Christian Brothers on staff was molesting some boys.

In the middle of all of that was Brother Livingstone (AKA "Deadrocks" to us kids). Never gave the strap, hardly raised his voice. I dunno how he got away with it but for a whole year he just read to us, first "The Hobbit" and then "The Lord of the Rings". We would sit and listen, spellbound. Even the hard cases among us never gave him any trouble.

An anachronism even in the 60's, St. Joe's finally closed in the 70's, some time after my family had moved to this Earthly Paradise called the United States. When they closed St Joe's issued a statement apologizing for their "brutality". All us St. Joe's alumni had a good laugh over that one.