I remember one of my teachers in middle school. The history teacher. He was one of the youngest teacher in our school and all the students were happy to see a young cute teacher in the class. He was so prepared, organized and had a nice handwriting. Still he was one of the teachers that I will never forget. In his class no one ever talked. My next door neighbor and I were in the same class. One day he brought in a picture of his daddy that lived far away. He was so happy and proud that he had a daddy too and was showing the picture to his friend next to him. The teacher grabbed him from the shoulders and gave a strong spank on the chick. Poor my friend could not understand where it came from. He bumped the head on the desk and the young and cute teacher left him there saying that "I hope, no one else will talk again during lesson" and continued teching.I was scared.I cried at home hopping for summer to come soon, so I don't have school. After so many years I went to work as a Social Worker in a middle school guess where.....In a school where the principal was my history teacher. He was so happy to see me there but, I was happier because now I was a grown up and I had a chance to solve a problem that I couldn't solve when I was a student in sixth grade. The students used to fight with each other during lunch breaks and during two years that I worked in that school, I had to run so many times after my teacher to save the students from the spank of their principal. This happened in Albania where the teachers could bit up a student but I swore to myself that I would never let a teacher bit up any of them. My history teacher was the reason that I became a social worker and a teacher.
-- Enkelejda Troci, Florida Atlantic University