THANKS

It did not escape my attention that last Tuesday was National Teacher Day, but I confess that it did occur to me later that here I am writing a blog in homage to literacy and to my reading life and I had not acknowledged the most important influences on me as someone who loves to read.

Thank you, Mrs. Davis. My third grade teacher will forever remain in my heart the most important teacher of my life. There were many other great and influential ones after her, but it was she who first recognized my curiosity and made a point of cultivating it. What I remember most were her questions. It was not enough for her to know I had finished a book. She wanted to know about it. She wanted to know what I had thought, what had impressed me, what had been left unanswered. And, oh, how she loved to talk history with me. In third grade in Virginia in those days there was great focus in social studies on the history of our home state, actually known to me because of Mrs. Davis as our Commonwealth. It is only a slight semantic distinction, this I know, but it is one of the many things that she pointed out to me as setting Virginia apart and for which I should be proud. And, she read to us. It was because of her that I came to know what the Newberry Medal was and that I still love Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH. It was she who made it okay to cry over the ending to Where the Red Fern Grows. It was because of Mrs. Davis that I read these books together with my own child (and may have cried a little at that ending again) and when I did I thought about Mrs. Davis and wondered if she had any idea that her influence now stretched to the next generation, if she ever considered that not only had she left a mark on my life, but she had done the same for a child she has never even met.

Thank you, Mrs. King. I remember fearing the day I would have to begin tenth grade English. Mrs. King's reputation preceded her as particularly intimidating and she lived up to it. But, I came to relish her class, her snarky attitude, her sarcastic humor, her piercing stare, all of it. I relished it and I loved her as a teacher because she did not placate us. She was honest, brutally so, and direct in both her criticism and her praise. And, there was plenty of both. If you crossed her or fell short of her expectations, she let you know. But, likewise, if you put forward your best and gave back an amount equal to what she herself brought to the table, she also let you know. What I remember most is reading Julius Caesar in Mrs. King's class. As well known as she was for her toughness, she was equally renowned for teaching this bit of the canon to hundreds of graduates of my small town high school. People remembered Mrs. King and they remembered Julius Caesar. Because of her we understood the context, the humor, the puns, the full meaning of a difficult work that we likely otherwise would have simply suffered through.

Thank you, Mrs. Beamer. I had the good fortune of having Mrs. Beamer twice, for ninth grade English and for a dual enrollment college English course my senior year. Others who had her and she herself may very well be surprised that I consider her a great influence on my reading life. Many of us who were her students owe her a thousand apologies in addition to our gratitude. We took advantage of her sometimes inability to control the discussion in a classroom and of the fact that she could often just be a difficult person to understand. But, I will forever be indebted to Mrs. Beamer for having me read James Still's River of Earth. It was this book that taught me first that stories from the mountains are just as important as stories from anywhere else. Because of her I first began to understand what Appalachian literature is and that its distinctive voice is an integral piece of the larger American story. Mrs. Beamer could stun me with her seemingly random pronouncements in a creaky voice that would suddenly become loud and clear, stopping dead the chaos and din that was her class. And, God bless that woman. She never laughed or even cracked a smirk when I told her, with utter seriousness, that I intended to become the next Ernest Hemingway.

I wonder now if I would have grown to love reading as much without these people in my life, but it really does not matter. Because I do love reading and it is in large measure because of their influence. If I had any natural inclination to begin with, it was these teachers and others who steered and prodded me along and opened my eyes. I single these three out for their influence on me related to the world of books and reading, but of course there were others who I will never forget for their roles in my life. Teaching is the noblest profession. I am lucky to be married to one of the great teachers, in fact. And, I am lucky to have known the teachers above and all the others.

Thank you, Mrs. Hayes. Thank you, Mrs. Patton. Thank you, Ms. Reynolds. Thank you, Ms. Winesett. Thank you, Mrs. Combs. Thank you, Mrs. Shaw. Thank you, Mrs. Parsons. Thank you, Mrs. Nuckolls. Thank you, Mr. Patterson. Thank you, Mrs. Blythe. Thank you, Mr. Phibbs. Thank you, Mrs. Combs. Thank you, Ms. Miller. Thank you, Ms. Woodruff. Thank you, Ms. Morton. Thank you, Mr. Brooms. Thank you, Mrs. Smith. Thank you, Ms. Key. Thank you, Ms. Carroll. Thank you, Mrs. Gatchell. Thank you, Mrs. Bray. Thank you, Coach Spangler. Thank you, Coach Garrett. Thank you, Coach Hale. Thank you, Dr. Luker. Thank you, Dr. Reiff. Thank you, Dr. Kellogg. Thank you, Dr. Lang. Thank you, Dr. Keller. Thank you, Dr. Reasor. Thank you, Dee Dee. Thank you, Steve. Thank you, Tal.