It took a special kind of teacher to be able to handle me. I made that point in an earlier post, but I’d like to use the thinktanK blog as a way for all of us to give a nod to the special teachers in our lives. The educators who made a difference for me are professionals whose love for teaching was surpassed only by their superhuman patience—and in a couple of cases by their capacity to administer tough love.   First up for me is Mr. Mullen.

He was my English teacher in the 12th grade at Robinson Secondary School. This was a guy who let you take almost any approach to a project, as long as it represented actual scholarship. When we had to take turns reciting Beowulf one semester, two students decided to make a rap song out of it—in the original Old English. (This was back when this was relatively new.) (Rap, I mean. Not Old English.) As one student did the “beatbox” thing, the other student performed the rap. It was unconventional, to say the least. We all sort of raised our eyebrows and looked at Mr. Mullen for his reaction, but he thought this was GREAT. He ran and got a tape recorder (kids, it had an actual cassette tape in it. Look for one during your next trip to a museum!) and had them do it again so that he could record it. I remember being so impressed by not only their creativity, but also by his willingness to let students experiment with creative ideas.   But that’s not what I remember him for.

During the spring of my Senior year, I had an acute case of “Senioritis.” I had already been accepted at James Madison University, (“The Harvard of the Shenandoah Valley” as I—and only I—like to say.) so I got a bit lazy and indifferent about my schoolwork. I didn’t realize the extent to which my lack of attention had been observed until one day when I stayed after class to ask Mr. Mullen for help with an assignment.

“Say, Mr. Mullen, do we need to write about the whole passage or just the character that we’ve chosen?” I asked.   Mr. Mullen barely looked up from his paperwork. “Whatever you want. I don’t care.”   “Ummm, OK. So…I’ll write about just my character.”   Again, without much in the way of eye contact, “Whatever.”   I stood there awkwardly for a moment, surprised by how little he seemed to care about me or my questions regarding the assignment. I turned to leave.   As I walked away, he said, “By the way, that response you’re getting from me? That’s what I’ve been getting from you every day for a month.”   That stopped me in my tracks, and I walked back to his desk, amazed that my laziness had been that obvious.   He continued, “You know, I talked to your football coach and your wrestling coach. They said you’re a good guy who works hard. Why aren’t you working hard in this class?”

I don’t remember even answering him, but I remember being stunned that this teacher, in a school with more than four THOUSAND students, had taken the time to find out what sports I played AND to go and talk to my coaches.

He ended our conversation with some stunning insight about me. He said, “You’re going to have a hard time in college if you don’t buckle down. You’re the kind of guy who will sit down to study for an exam and then get a call from the guys to meet them out at the pub—and then abandon your studying. You can’t refuse a social invitation, but you’d better learn how if you want to graduate.”

Mind you, this wasn’t a teacher I had ever spoken to outside of class.. He didn’t know my parents or come to football games or even spend a lot of time talking to students in the hallways. He was simply an observant educator who cared what happened to his students once they left his class. I never forgot his advice, even if I didn’t always follow it to the letter. (I just do so love a social gathering.)   I had plenty of teachers who, in my opinion, checked items off their “To-Teach List” and moved on to the next class. But everyone, I hope, has had teachers who went the extra mile. I’ll be sharing a couple more in the coming weeks, but I’d love to hear about YOUR teachers—be they K¹² or “brick and mortar”—who have made a difference in your life. We’ll even open up the K¹² blog for a guest post written by you! Parents, students, teachers—whoever would like to tell a story about their favorite teacher. Just let me know in the comments section or send an email to dgeorge@k12.com.

Coming up next: Dr. Stevens—The man who dared me to go outside and lift the Business Building.

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