In kindergarten, I took an aptitude test that qualified me to go on to first grade. That teacher was a nightmare and I hated her. I was there for a month and never seemed to do anything right. Every day, she found a reason to take recess from me. Sometimes it was because my backpack was hanging open in my cubby. Other times, she couldn’t read my handwriting, or I was using a mechanical pencil instead of a regular pencil. Once it was because I was coughing.

On my last full day of first grade, about a month after I was moved up, we were having quiet reading time before arts and crafts. I got my markers out and started reading. [First Grade Teacher] picked up the box of markers and threw them across the room. Everyone stopped reading and turned to us. 

First Grade Teacher: “Why are you using your markers?”

Me: “I’m not. They’re—”

First Grade Teacher: “Put them away. This is quiet reading time.”

Me: “Okay.”

She stood over me as I cleaned up.

First Grade Teacher: “I don’t understand why you would have them out at all. “

Me: “I was getting ready for arts and crafts.”

First Grade Teacher: “You will get ready when I tell you to get ready. Now apologize!”

Me: *Quietly* “I’m sorry.”

She erased craft time from the board and extended our math lesson. Everybody hated me that day. Again, I wasn’t allowed to have recess for my “bad behavior” and cried the whole time.

I told my parents about how the teacher was treating me and they called the principal. The next day, [Kindergarten Teacher] walked me to my classroom but stopped just outside the door.

First Grade Teacher: “[My Name], I got a call about you this morning. Do you believe I was unfair to you yesterday?”

Me: *Timid* “Well… I—”

First Grade Teacher: “If you can’t be mature, you can go back to [Kindergarten Teacher]’s class. I don’t know why [Principal] thought you could do this, but obviously, you’re not ready.”

[Kindergarten Teacher] walked around the corner. [First Grade Teacher] startled, then regained her composure. 

First Grade Teacher: “Welcome, [Kindergarten Teacher]! How can I help you?”

Kindergarten Teacher: “I think it’s time for [My Name] to come back with me.”

Me: *About to cry* “But—”

Kindergarten Teacher: “Don’t worry, [My Name]. You didn’t do anything wrong. Let’s go.”

I finished the year in kindergarten. When first grade came around, I was assigned to [First Grade Teacher] again. Thankfully, my parents stepped in and refused. I was reassigned to a different teacher and had a great year.

Like a lot of high school students, I suffered from test anxiety. A lot of teachers don’t understand how bad it can be for some kids, but my history teacher does.

We’ve just taken the first big test of the year in my American History class, on the American Revolutionary War. I know I bombed the test because of my anxiety, so I’m feeling pretty down the rest of the day and all that night. The next day, my history teacher shows a movie so he can work on getting our tests graded because he wasn’t able to finish them all overnight.

Throughout the class period, I watch my teacher quietly talk to several kids at their desks. I assume he’s giving them their test scores, so my anxiety and panic are growing each time my teacher gets out of his chair. Finally, it’s my turn. My teacher gets up and walks over to my desk.

Teacher: *Quietly* “Hey, [My Name]?”

Me: “Yeah?”

Teacher: “You have a Study Hall next period, right?”

Me: “Yeah.”

Teacher: “If I write you a note for your Study Hall teacher, would you be able to come over here to talk about your test?”

Me: “Okay.”

Teacher: “Thanks. Here’s the note. See you later.”

With that, he heads back to his own desk. I start panicking because I think he’s going to chew me out for doing so badly on the test, and the rest of the movie is just a blur. The period finally ends, and I head to Study Hall, show my Study Hall teacher the note, and head back to my history teacher’s room.

Teacher: “Hey, welcome back, [My Name].”

I’m almost in tears because I’m panicking so much.

Me: “Hi.”

Teacher: “I see that you’re uncomfortable, and I’m sorry I couldn’t explain more during class. Do you have test anxiety?”

Me: “Yeah.”

Teacher: “I thought so. You always seem to know your stuff during discussions, so when I saw your test score, I wanted to reach out and give you a better chance. What can you tell me about the Battle of Saratoga?”

Me: “Um… what?”

Teacher: “I just want you to think of this as a regular discussion, okay? Don’t worry about being wrong or making guesses; just tell me what you think.”

We proceed to have a conversation about some of the important events and details of the Revolutionary War. After talking back and forth for about twenty minutes, with me getting more and more comfortable the entire time, my teacher finally brings things to a close.

Teacher: “Well, it’s obvious that you really do know your stuff, so I’ll tell you what I’m going to do. On the paper test yesterday, you only got a score of thirteen percent. I’m guessing that’s because of your test anxiety, so, based on talking today, I’m going to throw that out and give you an eighty percent score. You’re missing some of the important details, so I can’t give you a perfect score, but you got all the big-picture stuff spot on. Are you okay with that?”

Me: “Absolutely! Thank you so much!”

Teacher: “You’re welcome. I still want you to do your best on the paper tests, but if you have a hard time with them, talk to me and we can do things this way again. Deal?”

I found out that my teacher did something like this for all the kids who had test anxiety – that’s why he was talking to everybody during the movie after the test. Not only did we all get better grades overall, but we even got better at taking paper tests because it took away a lot of the pressure of worrying about our grades.

By the end of the year, our history teacher was everybody’s favorite teacher. He also tried to help other teachers find similar ways to work with students, but not every teacher was willing to go along. I wish they had because that would have made high school a lot better for me and a lot of other kids. As it was, he was kind of the shining beacon in a world of darkness.

I know he’ll probably never read this, but I know that he knows how much my classmates and I appreciated his efforts, so thanks again, [Teacher].

We have a new second-grade teacher hired from another state. She puts up a bulletin board to spotlight student work and to highlight their successes. She’s from Denver, and she titles it with a phrase popular in Colorado.

Later, the administration had to politely ask her not to title her display of classwork “The Mile High Club.”

My acquaintance’s daughter had problems with congestion in her lungs, so her mom would have her lay across her lap and she would rhythmically hit her daughter on the back — not hard enough to hurt her — to break up the congestion.

Her daughter was about six at the time. She went to school and said her mom beats her. As you can imagine, this did not go over well with the school.

They called my acquaintance in, and she had to explain what her daughter meant.

I studied at a university north of the Arctic Circle. That means that the sun never sets during the summer and never rises in the winter. It also means that when it’s dark outside, the inhabitants can quite frequently get Northern Lights (aurora borealis). This is a beautiful spectacle — nature’s own light show colouring the sky.

One evening in August, I was walking my dog around a lake near the university housing estate. It was very late, but the sun never sets, so it was still bright as day. On a bench near the path, there were a couple of foreign exchange students sitting, looking up and waiting. They both spoke English with a heavy foreign accent, so I really can’t blame them too much for not knowing the details about this, but it was funny nonetheless. As I passed by, one of them asked me:

Student: “Excuse me. Do you know when we can see the Northern Lights?”

Me: “Ehm… Yes. Yes, I do. They are visible when it’s dark outside. Which is… a few months from now.”

They were laughing as they walked back to their dorms. I wonder how long they would have waited before giving up.