Remembering Classes, Students From the Past

When a new year begins, I think a lot about the teaching year that’s passed. And with a new century beginning, I find myself more inclined than ever to reflect on all those years in front of the classroom.

Despite the many problems often associated with education, it’s hard to imagine a career that offers a greater array of memories--from frustrating and funny to sad and joyful. Looking back on the past years, from my first classroom in the Samoan Islands to my current teaching position in Orange County, these high and low moments come to mind:

That student I wish I had reached: This was a boy in my junior remedial English class who, I gradually realized, could not read and had been successfully hiding this fact for years. Despite my attempts to help him, he was so embarrassed by the discovery that he dropped out of school.

Oddest district expenditure: District offices tend to be pretty tight with their money, so it was surprising one year to have them provide every student with a small card containing commonly used prefixes and suffixes. These were designed to fit in a student’s wallet, perhaps to prevent any vocabulary gaffes in public. The students dutifully folded them and put them in their wallets as directed. I’ve never seen one since.

Most inspiring new teacher: This was a biology teacher at my school so beloved by students that they walked out of classes when they learned he would not be rehired due to declining enrollment. Even though threatened with disciplinary action for missing class, the students felt he was worth it. The teacher is now inspiring students at another school.

First loss of a student: This young man in my American literature class and I had had many wonderful talks during the school year. I had not seen him since taking a pregnancy leave. He drowned one weekend off Newport Beach trying to rescue someone else. In his car, which he had left parked by the pier, was a present for my new baby.

Administrator with courage award: Teachers are famous for complaining about weak-willed administrators. That certainly wasn’t the case with my current principal, who took some profound risks to ensure that the gay and lesbian support group at my school could exist right next to our other equal access clubs.

Most bizarre directive: A former vice principal who sent out the following notice: “No teacher should ever eat or drink anything in class under any circumstances.” The notice went on to say something like, “You must never allow students to see you engage in these activities.”

Most surprising feedback: Last month, a woman from the Harvard University admissions office called and asked me to clarify one sentence on a student recommendation I’d written. She went on to say that they take recommendations seriously and that they do make a difference! I needed to hear that right then, with 20 still to write.

Most traumatic history lesson: Younger teachers may remember the Challenger explosion, but none of us who were teaching in 1963 will ever forget the moment we learned of the Kennedy assassination. For me, this fateful day was in Samoa during my 2nd period South Pacific history class. The Samoan students could not understand my tears. “Was he your brother?” one asked.

Biggest literary impact: Since I always have my students “debrief” after they’ve finished a novel, I was curious as to what they’d say about Steinbeck’s “East of Eden.” After many student responses, a boy who never said much raised his hand. “This book has changed my life.” No one spoke and we just let his words hang in the air.

Most staggering student misperception: A student new to California actually believed that the body of water off Huntington Beach was a large lake. I decided to buy him a map and highlight the words, “Pacific Ocean.”

Strangest misspellings: I keep an ongoing list of these, such as “Macbeth’s term oil,” “my Hawaiian yucaleile,” “the heroin of the book” and “he was a regular Till of the Hund.” But perhaps my all-time favorite is: “We owe much of our knowledge of the ocean to the work of Jock Coostow.” Who says kids don’t know phonics?

Most gratifying reunion: Every January for some time now, my husband and I host a dinner for four former students, who fly in from various locations. One’s now a lawyer in Washington, D.C., another is a lawyer in New York City, the third is directing operas in Europe, and the final one is a marine biologist in Hawaii. To see who they’ve become is about as rewarding as it gets.

Most touching gift: A student laboriously copied my favorite poem by Keats, “When I Have Fears That I May Cease to Be,” onto parchment paper and framed it.

Who knows what my future years in the classroom will bring? All I can be sure of is that the 2000s will produce still more memories, good days and bad days, sad moments and funny ones. I can’t wait.

Christine Baron is a high school English teacher in Orange County. You can reach her at educ@latimes.com or (714) 966-4550.