I was going to blog today about a writing lesson, but I’m saving it for one day next week. Tonight, I started teaching a Children’s Literature class at our local university, and a conversation there is on my mind.
One of the students, a Biology major, asked me if my mother-in-law used to be a teacher. It turns out she was his fifth grade science teacher in 1993 or 1994. He credits her with changing his life. Changing his life. In fifth grade.
He went on to tell me about the experiments she did with the class, and he explained to me in great detail about one she helped them perform that had to do with Palmolive dishwashing liquid and paper, and how “she lit a match right in the room to show us what smoking would do to our lungs.”
I can’t wait to call her tomorrow and talk to her about this young man. He hopes she will remember him. He wants to know next week what she said.
I already know she will remember him. She’ll have a story to tell me about him, every bit as detailed as the one he told me.
Do you know the power a teacher has? The power to change a life. In fifth grade.