By JoEllen Collins
When my favorite teacher, Mrs. Theodosia Wilkinson, died a few years ago, I wrote a column honoring her. Years after I experienced her brilliant style of teaching, I substituted in my high school and went to the lounge where, to my shock, Ms. W. was smoking! (“She’s really human,” I thought). She said, “Oh, my dear JoEllen, please come and sit by me, and, of course, you may call me Theodosia.” That last request I never could honor.
I fell in love with American literature because of her. When this tiny, white-haired lady, dressed in proper navy blue with a lace collar, began to intone Poe’s “The Bells,” she let her mellifluous voice soar with the rings of different bells. Then she brought to class a scarab found on a trip to Egypt and used it to stimulate interest in one of Poe’s stories. It was the proudest “A” I ever received.
My passion for teaching really began with Theodosia, and some of my most prized life memories are of teaching, my students, and the fellow instructors I knew in so many different schools. I still think that, other than with my family and closest friends, I enjoy most being around teachers. I once put a rubber band around my wrist so that I would remember not to gossip at our lunch tables. At Beverly Hills High, the teachers’ cafeteria was filled with round tables so we would talk in ideal groups, and we certainly did. I was hired there to teach ESL to 175 Iranian students following the Ayatollah’s new regime, but also taught debate and honors English and loved the surroundings, salary, and excellence that wealth could buy. Having come from my beloved Santa Monica High, a school composed of all varieties of racial, religious, financial and academic levels, I grew convinced that all schools should have equivalent amenities for teachers and students.
In short, I miss teaching. I like kids. I miss the moments when someone unexpected enjoys a book, “gets” a metaphor or image—those times when teacher and students share moments of connection that are unique and why we are in classrooms.
All of this came to me when I attended The Community Library’s presentation by renowned local teacher Phil Huss. He shared his just-published book, Hemingway’s Sun Valley. Phil possesses what the best teaches have: intellect, a passion for his subject, energy, and a dedication to encouraging his students to hone their academic skills in tough but exciting studies of literature and language. Phil believes that every school should have equivalent salaries, facilities and teacher and student amenities. I’m sure he also likes kids. I admire and respect him immensely.
I could list here the names of dozens of amazing teachers who have taught me and with whom I have worked (three “Bobs” pop up). But thank you, my teaching friends, for being in my life, telling me stories I can never forget, and always helping me in my positive and happy time being a teacher. I miss my students and you all.
