Student made a Difference in Life of a Teacher

Every student needs an advocate. Even the ones who get a bit mouthy, challenge you, and bounce all over the room with ideas. When I student taught in the fall of 1988 in a small rural town outside of Newton, Kansas, I encountered such a kid. 

He’d gotten into some trouble in his hometown school so he attended nearby Halstead. He was personable, witty, and smart. His name was Steve Elliott. 

Steve was a part of a small group of freshman I taught from the Class of 1992. 

They were a rowdy bunch, unlike the sophomores and juniors that I taught under my main cooperating teacher, Lois Loflin. 

She's the one who suggested that I also teach freshman—that way my certification would be valid for upper elementary.

I am certified 5-12 English, rarely seen now days. It means I don’t do cutesy bulletin boards, but I know grammar and a bit about Shakespeare and poetry to the point where I might be able to get a 10-year-old, as well as a 10th grader, interested in it. And since I’m a secondary English major, I am a comma fiend. 

So in addition to Loflin, I had a freshman class under a different teacher. They talked while the teacher was talking, bickered with each other, and seemed uninterested in learning. It was a rowdy bunch.

Maybe all freshmen are like this, but I don't know because I have not taught the age group since.

One can about imagine what happened when it came time for me to take over the teaching duties with the freshmen. I was the young thing, not even taller than most of them, and what did I know about teaching English. I also knew my supervising teacher from my college would be judging me on classroom management. So when I tried to break their chatty habits, I was met with resistance. Eventually, things got better, and I'm sure glad this cooperating teacher supported me.

Until.

One day.

There was a sub. A sub that thought she was in charge.

I was doing a punctuation review game, but this sub went into armed-guard mode. Her helicopter monitoring of the students turned them inside out. The kids rebelled, talked back to her, and bucked me. They'd never quite acted that way before--even with their regular teacher, so this shocked me.

I went home that Friday never wanting to return even though my classes under Loflin were going fine. The progress I'd made with the freshmen, thanks to the help of this cooperating teacher, was all undone that day by a sub that didn't know how far they'd come, and they felt like she nitpicked their behavior.

I wasn't sure how I was going to get through another couple months with those freshmen. Come Monday, I made a gutsy move. I told my cooperating teacher what happened with the sub and suggested that we split the class. I'd teach half and he'd teach the other half. He'd use my lesson plans, so that way he'd still know if I was on track with the content.

I made a list of the challenging students and split them up. We did a lottery system for the rest. And since I took what I thought he would see as some of the biggest stinkers, he agreed. We found an available room for me to teach them in, and he stayed in his classroom to teach the other half.

the freshmen ~ Steve is third from the right

It was with this small group of freshmen that I really connected with Steve. He made me feel like I was okay. That I could make it as a teacher. That my expectations of their behavior weren't out of line. That I could show a little bit of my sense of humor and maintain management of the classroom.

I would survive. And they would learn.

My student teaching days were coming to an end, but I didn't know if I still wanted to teach.

Until one day shortly before Christmas at the end of the term, I received a note from Vickie, Steve's mom.

It was written on a piece of blue scratch paper.

the note

Vickie's words helped shape my future.

I did get to meet Vickie when I attended Steve's wrestling meet. In fact, I got to spend an early Thanksgiving with them one year at their home. I made a trip to see Steve perform in the school play too.

And one school year, he made the journey to Cheney for me to help him with his research paper. It was during that visit he suggested we take a break and run to Wichita, so we went to Towne West Mall.

He wore his Bart Simpson shirt with the character giving the bird. I told him to close his jacket and he refused, so I walked on the other side of the mall from him in fear that a Cheney board member would see me walking with him. I never really ever went out of teacher mode with him.

Throughout the years, we've managed to stay in touch. He wrote me letters about his high school crushes, commented on the news of the day, and when he got engaged to his first wife, my sister Brenda went to Tulsa with me so I could meet her.

Years passed. Sometimes I'd get a phone call or a letter. Then a couple years ago we reconnected on Facebook. In 2013, when we were in Omaha for my niece Suzanne's wedding, we met up for lunch. I met his wife Barbie and two children.

And this summer, we had an impromptu get-together at his mom's in Burrton one afternoon—one in which he corrected my grammar.

Whenever I get to be around him, it's like time hasn't passed. He’s the same Steve. What you see is what you get. What he's up to will always matter to me.

Steve with me, summer 2015

We hear stories all the time about a teacher who helped turn a kid around.

With me, it was the other way around.

My heart knows that I would not be a teacher today had it not been for Steve Elliott and his mom.

The year after I taught Steve, I encountered a few more like him. Students in a classroom of my own. Kids who made me feel like I could do the job.

And do it for a long time.

A Deed Provides a Need

When I tell people I teach middle school English, they laugh and apologize. When they hear I also teach high school public speaking, they moan. I am not sure which disturbs them the most--the subject matter or the age group.

But I am certain not too many people have ever known a high schooler to do this: hand a teacher the keys to her car and say, "I can walk or catch a ride with friends. You need a car worse than I do."

That is exactly what happened after Brooke Voth, a generous high school girl and daughter of a teaching colleague, learned that I had had a car accident in October 2000. She dropped her car keys into my sweaty hands when I was at middle school basketball practice and said, "You can use my car."

Incredible.

Here is Brooke, as a middle schooler after a big basketball win, her hand touching mine. It would not be the last time.

A few days later Peggy Gregory, another teaching colleague, loaned me a car they had available—that way Brooke could still use her vehicle.

Incredible.

The Gregory car starting acting up right about the time mine was finally fixed. It was only the alternator. Whew--I did not want to get the reputation of being a car-jinx. 

Paula, Brooke's mom, in pink. Peggy in the middle back. Jim Gillett on the left and Jack Goss on the right. Picture taken sometime between fall of 1989 to spring of 1993 because we are in the old jr. high. And yes, that's me--stylin' with those fold-over-the-waist pants.

Around the time this car accident happened, I had recently taken a Crown Financial Ministries course emphasizing a biblical approach to finances. I had been tithing faithfully, earning extra money by keeping the volleyball books at games, and sticking to my budget.

In addition, my car insurance paid a daily allowance towards a rental car for each day I was without my car. I called my insurance agent, Steve Pore, to make sure this was ethical. He said I paid for the policy and this was a benefit of it.

I decided to put the figures on paper for the three months I had been following that budget. To my surprise, I was more than even-Steven. I made money. Maybe only about seventeen bucks, but still--incredible.

For the second accident years later, yet another teacher friend helped me. Kay Wulf loaned me her car, and she drove her pick-up for a couple of weeks. 

Incredible. Students and colleagues alike prove that a friend in deed is a friend to one in need.

How about you? Ever had a high schooler surprise you with their thoughtfulness on a adult level? Or a colleague provide a basic need? I'd enjoy hearing about your experiences in the comment section below.

Kay with me after Wichita Music Theater in summer of 2014.

Writer's Note: My brand new Alero was barely one-year-old when she ended up in the body shop. For more details about the car accidents referred to in this post, read An Out Pore-ing of Appreciation.