With the Bad, Comes the Good

Mrs. B was my freshman and sophomore Spanish teacher in high school. She is the one teacher in my life who caused me to have many sleepless nights as well as several nightmares. I know that we can all relate to this. She was and probably will always remain my least-favorite teacher. My dislike of Mrs. B had nothing to do with her teaching skills. She seemed to be a very qualified high school teacher, yet she did not know how to treat her students.

Mrs. B had the classroom very dull and gloomy. There was some display of student work around the room, but not a lot. It was a typical classroom with her desk in front of the chalkboard and our desks facing her desk in straight rows. Mrs. B would lecture at us. She would call on us to answer questions. She ran the class at a pace of her own. If a student could not keep up she would continue to move on without regard to that student.

I was forced to get a tutor, as were many other students in the class. This should have been an indication to her that she was moving too fast or that we did just not comprehend what we were being taught. She obviously ignored the signs. I would constantly make an effort to go see Mrs. B on my own time; she would help me, but was very cold towards me. She knew how hard I worked in the class, but would never praise me. By the time I reached my last marking period in her class ever I had never received a B. I would always come close but not quite there.

When the last day of class came for me in Spanish, as usual we received our final grades. My grade in Mrs. B's class came out to be a 79.44. She refused even after I spoke with her to raise my grade the half a point so I could have a B for the class. Mrs. B even told me when she told me my grade how surprised she was with how well I did for the marking period. Mrs. B showed no compassion for any of her students. She cared only about the content manner of the class and getting through her planned schedule.

For the two years in high school I spent in Spanish class I never received a B. The only class that would keep me off of honor roll. Till this day I will never take another Spanish class because of Mrs. B. She turned me off to the language. To be a teacher it is much more than just teaching the material it is about caring for your students, helping them, and wanting them to get the most out of your class. I learned nothing from Mrs. B's class due to her unwillingness of connecting with us, the students. I can remember very little about the Spanish language. When a teacher does not show respect to their students and make them feel as though they will never be good enough for that teacher, it is hard to learn. This is why I want to become a teacher.

From Mrs. B's class I saw that without a connection with the students the appropriate level of learning does not occur. Because I felt so strongly about how Mrs. B's actions in the classroom were reflecting on my work as well as my peers, I began to have thoughts of, "Well, if I were a teacher." I started to have endless talks with my mother who is an educator about the issue of communication and connection with students versus just having knowledge of a subject matter. I began to see that a lot more goes into teaching than I thought. There needs to be love and passion for teaching and for students.

Mrs. B is my reason for becoming a teacher. She taught me that schools need better teachers; teachers who care and feel. I thank her for allowing me to observe what is not needed in the class. I thank her for getting me frustrated to the point of exhaustion. I thank her for helping me find my passion in life. This is why you have to take the bad sometimes. With the bad will always come the good.

-- Shelby Sandler