Thursday, October 02, 2008

My Permanent Record

When I was a child and attending school the worst thing that could befall a student was (according to the teachers and administrators) getting one of your misdeeds on THE PERMANENT RECORD! This secret record, stored in a fire-water-bomb proof vault, would haunt you the rest of your life, any stain upon it could prevent you from landing a coveted white-collar job- leaving you with only the career options of ditch-digger or beggar. I discovered this message in a stack of my old report cards. It should have been signed and returned, presumably for my permanent record. It was written by my third grade teacher, Mrs. Narverud, a kindly woman who left teaching after a couple of months, falling ill and never to return. Her kind remarks seem eerily prescient- it's almost as if she could foresee my future blog with remarks such as "... inquisitive mind...", "... likes to know the 'why' of things..." and "... should be encouraged to broaden his interests.."

Now that I stop and think about it, all of my
elementary school teachers left the profession
after having me as a student.

By Professor Batty



4 Comments:

Blogger Rose said...

I'm certain that you still have many friends.
As to your effect on teachers...it reminds me of the fact that in my last two jobs, the librarian I worked with retired within one year of my arrival. Maybe this was a positive thing for them? One hopes.


Blogger Professor Batty said...

... not so many close friends- it seems that we've all scattered. But there are newer friends of a different sort, people living in a variety of places and coming from different circumstances. I had never thought much about what people around the world think before I started FITK. For giving me that window I am most grateful for blogs...

And the teachers who left fell into two groups- young women who just got married (I vividly remember my kindergarten teacher showing us her diamond engagement ring) and older women, women in their sixties, women who came of age during World War I, women who were just plain worn out. I remember scenes of desperation in some of those classes...


Anonymous Jon said...

Have your teacher's handwriting analyzed, just for fun. This blogging thing you do certainly brings together people who would never know of each others existence. Commonality is fun to find and always brings a smile.

Good teachers are a true gift and there are a handful we never forget. I think we need to find them and tell them.


Blogger Móðir, kona, meyja said...

Wait a minute, you were in my class?

I remember the young Danish teacher who has just got out of university and quit teaching after one year of teaching my class...having walked out of class in tears on several occasions...

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