Question of the Day | 10/06/2008 12:00 am

Yesterday was World Teachers' Day. Who was your favorite teacher and why?

Liz Smith | 10/06/2008 12:00 am

The Woman Who Changed Liz Smith's Life

My favorite teacher was a woman named Mary Sweet and in the Robert Lee Paschal High School of Fort Worth, TX, she taught me all about the theater, showed me the greats from Lunt & Fontaine to the Barrymores and Helen Hayes and set me on a path of learning about drama, literature and the magic that is theater. It has never left me. She was a truly inspiring woman — what she was doing trapped in "Cowtown" I have never found out, but she changed my life and gave me aspirations and ambition.

Click here on this text to read my New York Post column.

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Judith Martin | 10/06/2008 12:00 am

Judith Martin: The Landlady, 'The Frogs' and the Pool

Barbara McCarthy at Wellesley, who played the landlady in "The Frogs" in Greek with an Irish accent — in the swimming pool.

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Joan Ganz Cooney | 10/06/2008 12:00 am

Joan Ganz Cooney's Fighting Words

Bud Brown, my social studies teacher when I was a freshman in high school. He opened up the world for me … talking about the evils of racism, anti-Semitism (in Hitler’s Germany) as well as many other injustices. Oddly enough he wasn’t really liberal in the political sense but was a man who knew injustice when he saw it. Several national education groups hold a huge convention in Atlanta annually and present a gold key to someone who has influenced education and that person identifies the teacher who most influenced his or her life. The teacher is presented a gold key and, in those days, $1,000. I was selected for the gold key award in the early ’70s and didn’t even know if Bud was still alive since I hadn’t seen him since 1943. He was very much alive and he and his wife came to Atlantic City where we had a wonderful reunion. He expressed surprise that I had selected him; he said, "You were always arguing with me," and I said, "Because you were changing my life."

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Joan Juliet Buck | 10/06/2008 12:00 am

Joan Juliet Buck: Tearing off the Veil of Childhood

Mr. Ford taught English at the French Lycée in London.

He had a long brown beard, he was probably in his 30s and he rode a wheelchair.

I never knew his first name. I never knew why he was in a wheelchair.

He started teaching me in the French section, where English was an accessory, through to the English section for University entrance, when it was the core of everything. He brought me from 13 to 17.

He was a secret Jungian, I think. He made us read Laurens Van Der Post’s Venture to the Interior.

He made us read Christopher Isherwood’s Mr. Norris Changes Trains. As it was a French school, we got the bit about communism, but were a little baffled by the masochism.

He made us read Orwell’s Homage to Catalonia,, Down and Out in Paris and London and 1984. We were sobered.

He made us read Huxley’s Brave New World. I decided I’d be a Freemartin when I grew up, and never reproduce.

He made us read Evelyn Waugh’s A Handful of Dust. I’ve been depressed since the day I finished it.

For fun, he assigned Stoppard’s Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead. It opens with them flipping a coin; Rosencrantz bets "heads," and the coin comes up "heads" 92 times. This opened me to the possibility that impossible things could happen — not fabulous fairytale happy impossible things, but ominously illogical sequences of events.

Mr. Ford tore off the veils of childhood for me.

He made us write poems. I spun an ode that began "rolling hillocks of grey grass followed each other like waves in a limestone sea."

In the margin, Mr. Ford wrote, "There is a poem somewhere in this."

Because I trusted him, this seemed a compliment.

Which means he gave me examples of sublime darkness, but also gave me hope.

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His name was Phil Hager and he introduced me to the poetry and prose of John Donne and the poets of 17th century England—a great gifted teacher. I am forever grateful to him for that gift he gave me when I was a young man.

By f p on 10/06/2008 12:24 am

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It is so hard for me to choose. I probably have learned more from my mother than anyone else. In fact, I always considered her more of a teacher than a mother. There were a few along the way, that for some reason or another, understood that I was hiding from my own intelligence. There was always something about their ability to shine light on the subject at hand. Miss Machio was my 2nd grade teacher in Catholic School. She was an exception, because she was not a nun. It was her kindness and her special brand of magic that cleared up confusion in my life. It was because of her I wanted to be the best at handwriting in the class. I wasn’t, but from what she taught me of phonics, I always won the school spelling bees for the next couple of years. It was one thing that I could feel satisfied about myself. I truly loved her. In high school it was Mr. Dickenson. He taught Shakespeare, and it was my favorite class. I felt totally ill equipped to be there, but he would never accept “I can’t” or “I’m not good enough” from anyone. He made you think, and really learn to listen and love the English language. Everyday it was a joyful challenge to go to class and receive a deeper understanding of the Bard’s genius. He had that way of unlocking the mind.

By Frannie Em on 10/06/2008 1:03 am

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FP, Speaking of school…you and Frannie and I got spanked.lol.

By Step away from the BLOG! on 10/06/2008 12:19 pm

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First the spanking….. and then the…./// lol

By f p on 10/06/2008 4:35 pm

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FP, I knew a guy like that. British. lol. ;)

By Step away from the BLOG! on 10/06/2008 11:41 pm

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ROLFLMAO—brit lol figures :-)

By f p on 10/07/2008 12:22 am

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My dad. He is the reason why I’m well on my way to becoming a future teacher. I only hope I can be at least half amazing as he is as well as the other teachers who continue to inspire me and keep me humbled. “A teacher is a compass that activates the magnets of curiosity, knowledge, and wisdom in the pupils.”

By Little Fefe ~ There is nothing wrong with being too idealistic. It is just your dreams sparkling. on 10/06/2008 12:36 am

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Little Fete Thanks for you post.

By Frannie Em on 10/06/2008 1:05 am

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Joan Juliet Buck You are such a fabulous writer. He sounds like a wonderful teacher.

By Frannie Em on 10/06/2008 12:49 am

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my, and all ‘then’ student’s fave H.S. teacher was a Korean war-vet—-Richard Martinez—-a 2nd generation Cubano—-born bi-lingual, after the Army’s Montery School of language he was fluent in 9—-taught us ‘accelerated-lit’ and Russian—-and so well, i was constantly at odds w/my later USF Russian teacher—-he was loved by all, and a legend in Fla.’s edu—community. oddly, years later, when i returned from Cal, AK, Hawaii, i swiftly asked of him, only to be told he had died of prostate cancer—-not so, my H.S. GF told me he was gay, died of HIV—-he never ‘came-on’ to a student—-even as we continued to visit—-i never guessed—-but while he was teaching ‘The Bard’s Tempest’ he asked me who i reminded him of—-i said ‘the fairy, Ariel.’—-forget ‘pin-drops’, you could hear hair-growing in that room—-so many knew—-he asked what i meant—-‘you have some ephemeral quality, as Ariel, or Puck—-different from mortals—-some cosmic being.’ he looked at me, knew i had no clue—-thanked me, and we moved on—-no student could forget this man—-at USF, whether Lit, Russian, French—-nobody came close—-his personality stunned all—-

By gulliver fourmyle on 10/06/2008 1:03 am

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Gulliver, My son went to undergrad at USF, too. And Jesuit grad school in Paris, too. “The fairy, Ariel” too funny, love Midsummer’s Night Dream. But the other kids must have been thinking ‘nightmare.’

By Step away from the BLOG! on 10/06/2008 1:46 am

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USF, I just realized, might have something to do with Florida, and not University of San Francisco, the Jesuit school…sorry…

By Step away from the BLOG! on 10/06/2008 10:53 pm

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the U of San Fran (please don’t call it ‘Frisco’) is a Jesuit school? when i lived on 19th, just before Golden Gate Park, my teeth were a mess—-they spent months saving them—-my 1st daughter, 2nd son were born there—-i paid only for gold used in procedures—-what a school—-very lucky lady—-i yet watch ‘Black Robe’, and ‘In the Name of the Rose’—-

By gulliver fourmyle on 10/07/2008 2:09 am

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Since short term memory loss seems to have set in, the only teacher that I remember was my high school art teacher, Mr Pelz. He taught pottery and clay sculpture. He had a very easy signature to forge and kept his pass pad in open view. We artsy-fartsy types never went to homeroom or a study hall. We discovered we could make a pizza in the kiln, and pretty much anything else we could get away with. I remember one particular day when we decided that it would be very funny to make the equivalent of a large turd out of red low fire clay. We attached it to a very long piece of wire and hung it out the window and lowered it to the windows of the classroom just below us. I can’t remember ever laughing so hard in high school, and we didn’t get caught. By the time they figured out what it was, and where it came from we had all gone on to our next class. As I recall, I never ‘cut’ school but once in my life. Why would I when I could have so much fun just working on my latest art project. CA

By C A Rose on 10/06/2008 1:10 am

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lmao that’s was so good it brought tears to my eyes….lol I remember Art class, I never skipped school either, I loved Art and My teacher was a blessing to me, she was very cool to Me However A lot didn’t like her because she was harsh and a bad Temper but only if you disrespected her, My favorite memory was , one time we wanted to play a joke on her our junior year and Laura, Charlie and Myself were the only ones who ever used the wheels, Hint access to the Clay, Charlie WAS Excellent at sculpting and a Senior he had nothing to lose an early Graduate as well, lol Laura and I knew we were the ones going to pay the most consequences ..lol….however we didnt care we knew this was going to be good! he stolen clay, a bunch! and we helped him! He had taken it home and sculpted a head that was very realistic! Charlie was a basketball player so he had access to inside the school after hours and used the Kiln Im sure he was baking other stuff for himself as well…lol…Wink wink..lol But anyways the head gets done, We then snuck into her homeroom and put it at a Table, location looking directly at her desk sitting up on a small pedestal on top of a chair thus making it look as thou it was sitting at a students desk, it was painted the whole 9 yards look Very realistic and Very Bloody ..We were in the next room hiding early about 30 minutes before school started, she walks in goes to her desk looks over and Man she screamed so freaking Loud we all started screaming…lololol…IT WAS the funniest moment i ever had in high school…and the Most enjoyable! She would Joke about it with me and Laura from time to time saying she didnt trust us and stuff…lol..but she did she loved us we were her brats! no there were no Scoldings other then that very moment.She cussed like no bodies business at us ..lol..Never have seen either one of them in 30 years Wonder how they are?…thanks for sharing that story, this is fun makes me smile !

By Wake Up and Hear The Fear In your Childs Voice on 10/11/2008 11:05 pm