04 April 2011

Love Letters: My favorite teacher ever

 In the spirit of Tori's DonorsChoose contest (DonorsChoose for teachers--Go! Enter! Now!), I decided to dedicate my first official Love Letter to Ms. Deaton, the best history teacher ever.


Somewhere around the second grade, someone decided I was smart.  From that point on, it was "gifted" this, "accelerated" that, and "early" the other.  By the time my junior year of high school came around, needless to say, I was burnt out.  Worn out.  I felt like my brain was crammed full, and that there was no possible way I could fit anything else in there.  I was also fighting ADHD, undiagnosed at the time, so lecture classes were always my worst. 

My junior year, I opted to take Dual Enrollment US History instead of the more strenuous AP program.  History was never one of my academic strong suits, but what can you do but suck it up and muddle through?

It only took a week or two to realize that this class was going to be different.  Note-taking was usually my only saving grace in lecture classes, but I noticed a pattern developing.  I'd start the class diligently scribbling notes, and maybe 30 minutes in, I'd put my pencil down, kick back, and just...listen.  The way she talked about history was so incredibly engaging.  It was storytelling, not just recitation of names and dates.  She liked to slip in those "naughty" facts that the history books leave out, too.  By the end of the first month, her class was my favorite and I was maintaining an A average.  She engaged us.  For the first time ever, even with a history teacher for a father, I LOVED history.

Fast forward to just before the second semester of my senior year.  I sat in the vice principal's office with my current schedule and a course catalog.  I explained that while my four of my classes were year-long and ongoing, I had two periods to fill.  I'd squeezed out all the academic juice my high school had to offer.  I proposed a solution--night classes at the community college in exchange for leaving after my second class of the day, around 11am.  College algebra and--you guessed it--World Civ with none other than Ms. Bonita Deaton, the best history teacher.  The VP went for it, and the next thing I knew, I was a part-time college student.

The World Civ class was no different, better even.  Engaging, thought-provoking, history-as-storytelling.  Even better, Ms. Deaton became my friend, since college doesn't have such a strict culture of division between students and faculty.  I was sad to see it end, sad that in the fall, I'd be leaving for South Carolina for college and that I wouldn't get to plunder the course catalog for every single class Ms. Deaton taught. 

I haven't seen her since, but I feel that without her, I never would have developed an understanding of our past as both a country and a planet.  I'd have no frame of reference for politics or world events.  I'd be just another sheep bleating "Four legs good!  Two legs bad!"  She found a way to reach me that no previous teacher had, and for that, I am eternally grateful to her.

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