Rate My Professors

Standard

You can tell the semester is winding down when some of my 2010 students spent our lab time last week surfing for fall classes. I overheard two nearest me discussing how to know which classes to take by consulting ratemyprofessors.com.

I’d heard of it, of course, but I’d never gotten around to checking out the site. Naturally I took the opportunity to look myself up . . . and find out I’m not on there.

We all know most ratings come from people who either hate or love someone/something, so I felt a mixture of relief and disappointment. None of my students hate me enough, but none adore me enough, either. Then one student told me he wanted to add me a while ago, but you have to fill in too much info and it got too tedious. I guess I can be glad my students are smart enough not to waste time on tediousness! Or something.

I can relate. How often did I tell my professors how much I appreciated their class? Yeah, not often enough. And that got me started thinking about teachers to whom I’d love to give a shout-out for the highest rating possible.

Like Mr. Moore, our high school choir teacher at Palo Verde H.S. in Tucson, AZ, whom we affectionately called Old Man. He was A-M-A-Z-I-N-G and could draw not only incredible sound from us, but feeling, too. And when you’re a teenager, I’m pretty convinced that having a positive outlet for all those turbulent emotions is a dang good thing. Plus, having one of the best choirs in the city felt awesome, made us proud of the work we put into it, and gave us a reason to want to show up for high school every day.

Also there were so many fantastic professors I had at BYU, like Phil Snyder, John Bennion, Elizabeth Wahlquist, Sirpa Grierson, Trent Hickman, Lance Larsen, Steve Walker, Jackie Thursby, Chris Crowe, Louise Plummer.

Sometimes I feel like I was raised by them — by the English Department — because they shaped who I am in so many important ways during those first unstable adult years where I was trying to figure out myself and the world. They helped me appreciate multiple perspectives and learn to question/analyze everything to see both the complications and possibilities. Those skills have become invaluable.

Then there are dozens of teachers whose names I’ve forgotten but who nevertheless impacted my life.

Like the high school English teacher who gave me the first D I’d ever gotten on a paper. I needed that D as a wake-up call to try harder.

Like my fifth grade teacher in Portland, OR (was her name Carol Mitchell?), who let me write a novel instead of a short story and even typed it for me, quietly encouraging my budding writing career.

Or my fourth grade teacher who let me organize our class into producing a (horrible) play I’d written myself.

Or a lit professor in college who treated my questions and concerns with such respect and deference that I left his office feeling like I’d just met the embodiment of “graciousness.”

Or my social studies teachers in middle school, one of whom had a poster of sentence structures for us to learn to use. I never learned the names of the structures (“starting with a past participle”? “interrupting with an -ing phrase”?), but I’ve been using them successfully since eighth grade, and more than fifteen years later that has become my model for teaching grammar to my college students (it’s the usage, not the terminology, that’s important).

I only ever dropped one course because of a teacher: in college after sitting through the first class period, and it was mainly because his voice was so soporific I was afraid of falling asleep in class and offending him. 😉

How would I rate my professors? Maybe I’ve got rose-colored glasses looking at the past, but I’m grateful for all of them. They shaped me into both the person and the teacher I am today.

So today in the comments I’d love it if you’d give a shout-out to the teachers you’re grateful for and tell us why.

Leave a comment!

Advertisements

6 responses »

  1. Let’s see, so many great teachers . . . Mrs. Shizzowa my 1st grade teacher who convinced me I was smart. I don’t know if I was before that, but I worked hard to prove her right. (I hope it worked.)

    So many others. Mrs. Reed gave me an A when I handed in horse dung for a English assignment on satire. She did ask me to dispose of it outside of her classroom though. Mrs Durrum spent many hours after class helping me with calculus. . . too many to name them all. Thanks.

    Like

    • Love the horse dung story! And love that a teacher convinced you that you were smart and it made you want to prove her right. That makes me want to do the same favor for all my students.

      Last semester I asked one student if I could keep a copy of her fantastic paper to use as an example. I assumed she’d always been good at writing, but she told me that I was the first teacher to make her feel like she was! So sad, but I was glad that I could change her experience. 🙂

      Like

  2. My fifth grade teacher, Ms. Bishop, made me write every week. I learned that writing could be a creative outlet from her.

    Then my high school biology teacher, Mr. Relampagos, made us memorize local bird species. I learned to appreciate the diversity of local wildlife from him.

    One college professor, Ken O’Connell, taught me the basics of comic creation which gave me enough information to start teaching myself.

    Like

    • I’m glad to hear Ms. Bishop was great, too! Since Ms. Mitchell was so incredible, I felt bad for everybody in the other class because as a fifth grader I assumed there was only one best teacher in each grade. That’s ten-year-old logic for you. Go Maplewood Elementary!

      Like

      • I suspect Ms. Mitchell was a lot more lively and fun with her students but I’m glad that I had Ms. Bishop. Even though she made us work hard, she encouraged us a lot. She also told us crazy stories about growing up in our neighborhood before it became a suburb. Ms. Bishop may have been the first person I learned to respect for her age and experience.

        Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s