Appreciating teachers is learning experience

I was pretty sure I wasn't going to like my eighth-grade geography teacher.

The first day of class, she asked us to write short impromptu essays about ourselves and pass them forward. It was important that we put our names on our papers, she reminded us, and so I did. In an uncharacteristic fit of major girly-ness, I signed my full name HUGE across the top — Ann Louise Edwards — with as many hearts and daisies and curlicues as it could bear.

The next day, my eighth-grade geography teacher handed back our papers. And as she did so, she asked if I were present.

I raised my hand. Was she going to compliment me on my essay in front of the whole class — perhaps even read it aloud? The possibility made me sit up proud in my seat.

The teacher glanced down my row until our eyes met. When she had me in her sights, she said matter-of-factly, "In the future I would suggest you sign your name with less flourish." And then she moved on.

The class tittered as I slumped back against my chair. I felt just like a balloon with all the air whooshing out of it.

Geography! Just another reason to hate junior high school!

Which I did with all my heart. Junior high school was AWFUL — especially if you were flat and wore glasses and had a bad perm and boys didn't like you and your mother wouldn't let you get your ears pierced until you turned 14. All the popular girls had pierced ears, even if they did the piercing themselves at slumber parties with each other. One girl even told me how it was done — with a darning needle and a raw potato and lots of ice for after.

Thank goodness there were always books to make you forget your own problems! "Jane Eyre," "To Kill a Mockingbird," "Rebecca," "Gone With the Wind." My favorite, however, was "Exodus," and I desperately wished my parents were Jewish, because that would mean I was Jewish, too!

When it came time to have a debate in our geography class about the situation in the Middle East, I volunteered to share everything I knew about the formation of the state of Israel.

Only my geography teacher had different plans for me.

"You already know a lot about the Israeli side of things, don't you?" she asked.

Surprised that this teacher had noticed my choice of personal reading material, I nodded.