A Lifetime Of Inspirations

I had several teachers that were inspirations-- Mrs. Morris and Mrs. Miner, my 1st and 2nd grade teachers-- both for recognizing my artistic talents and creativity, and more importantly, encouraging them. Mrs. Hill, my 7th grade science teacher. Imagine having a teacher who, visually, looks like Edna Mode from The Incredibles, but had the snap and wit of a stand up comedian. She made science FUN. Clue: She made the class meal-worm cupcakes, and we had crayfish gladiators. She loved that Jeff and I named our crayfish "Nixon"-- after all, he kept throwing his claws up and open like Nixon did with his "V" signs. Mrs. Rowley, who was my 6th and 7th grade English teacher. She got us doing creative writing journals, and when I began to write a novel, she insisted that I keep visiting her for her to keep reading it. This lasted until about halfway through high school-- I would walk over from the high school after school and drop in to the junior high and visit her and let her read the next chapter. You could say she was my first writer fan and groupie. ;) Mr. Leferriere, my 10th grade biology teacher, and the track coach. Two reasons for him... first, I was definitely biased towards animals when it came to biology. I mean, horribly biased. Plants were boring pretenders, compared to animal physiology. His nickname was "Plant-Man". No, seriously, it was. He awoke me, with his near monocular vision of biology (his specialty was being a botanist, after all), of just how amazing the plant kingdom really is. Secondly, I joined the track team my senior year. He knew why-- I was going to the Marines after I graduated, ergo-- I was giving myself over to him for my physical training before going to boot camp. What was so impressive about him for this, however... is that he had a horrible accident years before. Both his ankles were destroyed. The doctors did all they could, then informed him he would never walk again. The man, when I knew him, ran 5 miles a day, on artificial ankles that supposedly wouldn't allow him to even walk. I had no excuses for giving anything less. Mr. Coon-- the High School Drama Teacher (although he preferred the term: Theatre Coach). Strangely enough, not only did we share a passion for theatre, but also comic books. It helped that he also had a strong sense of humor, and to be honest, spoke to everyone as if they were PEOPLE, instead of the tiered teacher-student roles. Don't get me wrong-- if you disrespected him, he'd go ahead and pull rank as was his right-- but he never rubbed your face in it like most teachers. The last one I will mention wasn't even a teacher of mine. Mr. Ash. He didn't even teach at the same school district. However, he was my best friend's dad, and like a second father to me. Because of him, I have a love of NPR and classical music, as well as fond memories of having a dad-figure who supported my emotional needs better than my own dad. When he died, a part of me died as well. There were more teachers who touched me, whether in a positive or negative way (sometimes, that was motivation, as well-- being MORE passionate about their field of expertise than they appeared to be), but these few listed...? Definitely made the grade in my book.