{"id":13,"date":"2007-05-07T13:23:00","date_gmt":"2007-05-07T07:53:00","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/attalim.ekhwan.com\/index.php\/2007\/05\/07\/three-letters-from-teddy\/"},"modified":"2007-05-07T13:23:00","modified_gmt":"2007-05-07T07:53:00","slug":"three-letters-from-teddy","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/taalim.ekhwan.com\/index.php\/2007\/05\/07\/three-letters-from-teddy\/","title":{"rendered":"THREE LETTERS FROM TEDDY"},"content":{"rendered":"
The following is the most requested, and probably the most moving piece I’ve run in the 10+ years of Teachers Helping Teachers. It is one of the most powerful pieces that I’ve ever read. It reminds all of us of our power as teachers. I’ve often maintained, that the most important thing that elementary, and to a point, middle school teachers teach is self-esteem and self-concept. This submission only strengthens that conviction. With the year almost over, and all of us counting the days until vacation, it’s good for all of us to read again, and to pass on to our teaching staffs. Dr. S. Mandel<\/span> <\/div>\n

Teddy’s letter came today, and now that I’ve read it, I will place it in my cedar chest with the other things that are important in my life.<\/span><\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

“I wanted you to be the first to know.”<\/span><\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

I smiled as I read the words he had written and my heart swelled with a pride that I had no right to feel.<\/span><\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

I have not seen Teddy Stallard since he was a student in my 5th grade class, 15 years ago. It was early in my career, and I had only been teaching two years.<\/span><\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

From the first day he stepped into my classroom, I disliked Teddy. Teachers (although everyone knows differently) are not supposed to have favorites in a class, but most especially are not supposed to show dislike for a child, any child.<\/span><\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

Nevertheless, every year there are one or two children that one cannot help but be attached to, for teachers are human, and it is human nature to like bright, pretty, intelligent people, whether they are 10 years old or 25. And sometimes, not too often, fortunately, there will be one or two students to whom the teacher just can’t seem to relate.<\/span><\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

I had thought myself quite capable of handling my personal feelings along that line until Teddy walked into my life. There wasn’t a child I particularly liked that year, but Teddy was most assuredly one I disliked.<\/span><\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

He was dirty. Not just occasionally, but all the time. His hair hung low over his ears, and he actually had to hold it out of his eyes as he wrote his papers in class. (And this was before it was fashionable to do so!) Too, he had a peculiar odor about him which I could never identify.<\/span><\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

His physical faults were many, and his intellect left a lot to be desired, also. By the end of the first week I knew he was hopelessly behind the others. Not only was he behind; he was just plain slow! I began to withdraw from him immediately.<\/span><\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

Any teacher will tell you that it’s more of a pleasure to teach a bright child. It is definitely more rewarding for one’s ego. But any teacher worth her credentials can channel work to the bright child, keeping him challenged and learning, while she puts her major effort on the slower ones. Any teacher can do this. Most teachers do it, but I didn’t, not that year.<\/span><\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

In fact, I concentrated on my best students and let the others follow along as best they could. Ashamed as I am to admit it, I took perverse pleasure in using my red pen; and each time I came to Teddy’s papers, the cross marks (and they were many) were always a little larger and a little redder than necessary.<\/span><\/p>\n

<\/div>\n