Though I personally think the Back to School bells are ringing too early these days, particularly given the checkered performance of public school HVAC systems across the South, I would still wait til after Labor Day. Just over 60 autumns have come and gone since I first stepped into a classroom. And though I still consider myself a lifelong learner, my days of formal education ended more than forty years ago. And yet, memories of those classrooms, many of those teachers and later professors, remain vivid in my mind.
My first born daughter, Barclay is a teacher, her mother is a recently retired educator. I have long believed that teaching, often performed as a calling, is among the most noble professions. One of my favorite, though unofficial instructors was my grandmother, Mary L. Crane, a quote of hers is forever stuck in my brain. The day you stop learning is the day you start dying.
Though the past couple of years have thrown me a few health curve balls, I have no plans to exit anytime soon, so learning new lessons, as well as re-learning quite a few old ones, remains high on the agenda. My life has been blessed in so many ways—too many to inventory here—but in the arena of education, there are several folks I would like to recognize and give a shout-out to as the millions of American schoolchildren through college graduates head back into those hallowed halls of learning.
Miss Rice
As a runt of a first grader, and the first of my three siblings to go to school, I was pretty social and a real rule follower (that would change). Miss Rice was kind, sweet, new to teaching and very soft spoken. If our class was unruly, you could barely hear her speak. Yet, since I never remember her shouting us down, her demeanor kept us all inquisitive and calm. Before heading home for Thanksgiving break, and the Christmas recess that would follow, Miss Rice announced a Grand Reading Contest. The winner would be the student who read the most books by the return from Christmas break, nearly 45 days away. You had to keep a small log listing the book’s title, the date it was read, and a sentence describing the story. I didn’t get to see the other students’ entries, but my mother initialled each entry, as ‘proof’ that I had read the book. These were not novels, they were just children’s books and even the little Golden Books counted. I checked out as many as our school Librarian would allow me each weekend, and I planned to read at least two books a day. I won the contest handily, having read more than 60 books. But the prize was even better: a chess set. I had never even played checkers. I will write more about chess later, but Miss Rice gave me the gift of critical thinking.
Mrs. Morris and Mrs. Barker
The 4th grade gave me two teachers of similar background and temperament; one set me on the path to this vocabulary of mine. The other caused me to be so fearful that at times in her presence I could not speak. Mrs. Morris was my hero that year, though she had me complete what seemed like Herculean learning tasks. Mrs. Barker thought little of me and I lived down to her expectations. This would begin my challenging authority and questioning the thinking and rationale of those who had ‘the power.’
Ms. Autry and Ms. Franklin
Brother Brian, sister Tanya and I were entered into the Gifted Program at our elementary school. As the oldest of the trio, being the last one selected for the Gifted Program gave me a bit of an inferiority complex. Though classmates started calling me Crane Brain in kindergarten, I thought I must be the family dunce. Marsha Autry was our instructor in this loosely structured, multi-grade classroom, where we spent almost half the day during 6th and 7th grades. I always sensed that Ms. Autry was uncomfortable in her own skin. As a result she gave it her all to help us each feel comfortable in our own skin. Teachers value smart kids, fellow students not so much. Ms. Autry taught me to use my mind, and be proud of what it could hold… and to just know that most of those wisecracks and insults were effectively some degree of jealousy. Ms. Autry, who didn’t really like herself much, taught me to like me. Ms. Franklin, the school librarian just across the hall, practically adopted me and let my teachers know that anytime I had spare time, including after-school, I was welcome to come to the library and help her reshelve books. This began a compulsion to organize and collect, and also gave me great access to new titles. Ms. Franklin taught me that just when you think you know it all, there is another story to be told or new book to read and learn.
Coach Nick Janoulis and Coach Eddie Roberts
Other than one P.E. Coach in elementary school, there were no male teachers. Though my siblings and I became close with the Reverend Tucker, who was also our school custodian. But two high school coaches left their marks on me, influencing both my mind and my worldview. Nick Janoulis was a smaller man, built lean, but solidly, like the Wrestling Team that he coached. He was my first history teacher who focused more on the modern day and what I would later come to know as political science. His classes were always fun and informative, and he had a quick wit, which provided a healthy challenge for my own wit, by now developed into that of a class clown, or less charitably, a young smart ass. Coach Janoulis helped me understand the science of leadership, early lessons in politics, and the reality that the only constant in that arena is change, along with some degree of self-interest. I ran Cross Country for most of my high school years, under legendary Cross Country Coach Eddie Roberts. Thanks to Facebook, I remain in touch with Coach Roberts to this day. Perhaps the most valuable lesson he taught me, while I attempted to lengthen my stride and make my running more efficient, was to stop looking sideways and checking where my competitor was in the race. Keep your eyes straight ahead on the road, which was often quite uneven, and focus on your pace, stride and breathing. Looking sideways will slow you down, possibly trip you up and can dangerously take you off-course.
Ms. Jeannie Mills, Mrs. Lynell Chance and Ms. Eveline Brady
The trio of women who most impacted my high school learning were a Math Teacher, an English Teacher and School Newspaper sponsor and a Spanish Teacher. I chose to take math, a subject I generally disliked, twice with Jeannie Mills. We are also still connected via Facebook. Her classes were also joyful and celebratory and her time as an advisor and friend was coveted. Other than memorization, math never came naturally to me. I scored higher on the verbal than the math portions of the SAT. But to boost that SAT score in time for college entrance exams SAT Math was one of the last classes I took from Ms. Mills. She just kept telling me to apply myself, and direct at least half the energy I was putting into reading and books. Following her lead, I added 20 points to my next SAT Math score, tying my Verbal score. I would learn this lesson more than once: where there is a will… Lynell Chance encouraged my vocabulary, my reading and my writing. My smart aleck remarks were at full steam at this point. I am sure I was occasionally exasperating. Miss Chance was also the sponsor of our school newspaper, The Lakeside Legend. Once after a particularly choice remark by me, while smiling and biting her tongue Mrs. Chance said to me, “Mr. Crane, it seems you have so much to say. Perhaps you should consider writing it down…and then never showing it to anyone.” Even I laughed at that. Ms. Brady was a free spirit, a Black woman teaching Spanish and playing jazz in her classroom, and not above using costumes to engage her students. I switched from French to Spanish, largely based on the other students who were in Ms. Brady’s “cool kids” class. She had long before taken my younger brother under her wing, and he spoke fondly of her almost daily. Ms. Brady taught and demonstrated that one should always be ready to be surprised and expect the unexpected.
I have witnessed my daughter and her mother as lifelong inspirations to their students. Barclay’s first year as a teach was coming up on 12 or 13 years ago, and she still hears from many of those children in a school where she only taught for one year. I wish I had done a better job of keeping in touch with the educators who did so much and meant so much to me. But if nothing else, I hope this word reaches them or their loved ones, as I once again say, “Thank you and God bless you.” Now, back to class.
