[Date (January 1, 2014)]
A teacher embodies a secondary parent. It won’t come as a surprise to know that schools offer so much more than academic wisdom. Within its walls, it chronicles the endless stories of friendship, courage, and, inspiration. It will be a fortunate event to have someone who not only teaches textbook materials, but one who actually impacts the way a person think. I had such wealth of gaining invaluable lessons.
I had a teacher who indirectly influenced me to be a better version of myself. I was in high school. It had been a struggle to transition from lower to higher level of learning. That time, I remembered seeing senior students as the gold standard. I used to believe that they were the most popular set of people.
At first, I really didn’t think that I will be interested during my teacher’s time of teaching. She looked calm. She did not even bother reprimanding the noisy girls sitting behind me that time. I thought it was because of exhaustion. My teacher was nearing her sixties back then. She wore clunky shoes and had a big book which she carried with effort. That first day was spent with her seemingly endless enumerations of the future topics for the semester. It was an ordinary first day. The next meeting was no better than the last. It was her who stood in front, talked about the lecture. Meanwhile, we just sat in the classroom with everyone preoccupied with hushed gossips and stories. It was during the fourth day that we experienced something out of the usual routine. She announced a chapter examination. We all flunked that day of exam.
I’ve never seen a more complex exam. The prepared sixty-item paper was fifty percent enumeration, and the other half, identification. Strangely, we didn’t feel any resentment towards her, but rather, shame to ourselves. We willingly gave our undivided attention after that day.
My teacher displayed remarkable mastery of her subject matter. I realized that she was talking in front without reading anything. The book was shut-closed on the table, like it had been ever since. She once informed us that she carries her dog-eared reference materials out of hobby. We learned from a school faculty that our teacher graduated cum laude during her college years; it was old news for us.
I have never seen her shout or get mad. She had this untouchable air of composure. I thought during the first day, it was due to fatigue. I found out that it was her personality. She doesn’t force her ideas but it quietly made an impact to the class. I admired her even more.
Soon after, her class period was spent with busy students taking down notes or intently listening to anecdotes of her younger days. She worked as a pathologist in a hospital for twenty-five years. She also told us about her time as a lecturer in a university. I never asked her why she chose to quit being a doctor or a campus professor. I now knew the answer; she enjoyed the challenge. She was never too old to be exploring something fresh. She went to pursue another job after a year with us, but she left with a lasting impression to remember her by. She sure had a way to educate.
I understood that true intelligence is bundled with virtues. They always come together. Most noble people exude finesse and intellect, they affect others naturally. One important role of school is to hone a character, she delivered with flying colors. I learned of not only cultivating my skills and abilities but improving my attitude as well. She had instilled a simple lesson that knowledge can be taught even without the need to command. Without asking, she made us listen.
