Annus Horribilis/Annus Mirabilis

Charles Ungerleider, Professor Emeritus, The University of British Columbia

[permission to reproduce granted if authorship is acknowledged]

 There is little doubt that, for most people, this school year was horrible. There were many examples of extraordinary acts of kindness. But, for most teachers, the year was incredibly challenging.

Coming off such a year, it might be easy to lose sight of the huge difference that teachers make in the lives of their students. The students won’t. I didn’t when I was one. At least, as far as I remember.

When you get to certain age, you reflect on how you arrived where you find yourself. Of course, for most of us (me for sure) there was no plan. In my case I was the beneficiary of some extraordinary good luck, having been in the right place at the right time.

Part of my good fortune – perhaps most of it – was to have had some extraordinary teachers. Not just one or two, but many. Right from the beginning.

I remember being coaxed up the stairs in my elementary school by my mother. I was holding the handrail and resisting her at every step. But she used her weight and height to her advantage and was crafty. I cannot recall what inducement (bribe) she promised, but I relented. She delivered me to Mrs. Waite, a kindly kindergarten teacher who took me by the hand, led me into the classroom, and comforted me.

I grew up in a home where, because I was 11 years younger than the nearest of my siblings, I was the centre of attention. There were few obvious limits placed upon me by my parents or by my brothers and sisters. I was indulged. It was Mrs. Waite who taught me I had to wait my turn, seek permission before speaking, and share the spotlight with 25 or 30 peers.

Mrs. Waite must have liked us because she ‘re-enlisted’ to teach us in grade one. It was there that she taught me and my peers our most valuable of life’s lessons: how to read. She read to us at the beginning of each class and at the close of the school day. We learned the alphabet and its correspondence to sounds. Mrs. Waite taught us how reading was the most powerful of the tools we would acquire. Under Mrs. Waite’s tutelage I acquired the means to inform and entertain myself. Secrets – adult secrets – were no longer hidden in plain view. I could read!

Mrs. Fuller, my grade four teacher, taught us to love singing. We had a class choir. The whole class sang; no one was left out. I was given the privilege of shaking the bells during our performance at Christmastime. My hunch is that Mrs. Fuller thought I would not be able to ring the bells and sing simultaneously. I proved her wrong. She retired at the end of the year.

Mrs. Eisensen, my grade five teacher, encouraged us to be curious. “There are no bad questions,” she would remind us. In grade six, Mr. Einstein (no relation of Albert’s) engaged all of us in physical activity . . . everyday . . . rain or shine.  

My middle years in junior high school were mostly a blur. I took Latin I twice, and not for the love of the language. But the teacher I had in summer school taught me that, if I paid attention, I could master enough Latin to qualify for Latin II. I still have mixed feelings about that accomplishment.

Mr. Byrd, my grade ten English teacher encouraged us to read and appreciate poetry and difficult types of prose. He read to us like Mrs. Waite, but only at the beginning of class. Mr. Fesler, my high school civics teacher, kindled a passion for politics and government that has stayed with me. Mrs. Rocha, my grade twelve English teacher, taught me to write better compositions. Each week we would write a short essay, hand it in on Friday, and get it back with copious comments and suggestions on the following Monday. She likely had no life, but everyone of us passed the qualifying exam for entry to college-level English.

Dr. Bunzel, Dr. Collinge, and Dr. Whittaker taught me how evidence and logic could help shine light on almost any topic. They were not alone. Drs. Orkney, Guerevich, Gutierrez, Scalapino revealed the elegance of history, psychology, and statistics. Dr. Berliner mentored me when I was a doctoral student (his first).

If you are a teacher, I hope you realize the enormous influence of your work.

This is my last blogpost for school year 2020-2021. I plan to resume the blog in September – very likely on a new platform. 

I hope you have the rest and relaxation you deserve, and return refreshed to the coming school year.