Teachers

In the town where I grew up—Champion...just outside of Warren in Ohio’s “Steel Valley”—the school system made a significant and positive difference in my life.

I remember my first grade teacher—Mrs. Moyar at C.C. Kiser Elementary—as a kind and gentle person. Mrs. Pemberton and her son Mr. Pemberton were two of my favorites, as was Mrs. Hicks (she was stern...but what a great teacher!). Middle school was a blur, but high school was a time when I felt most supported by my teachers.

Our band director, Mr. Saker, welcomed me into the band (marching, concert, jazz, orchestra for the annual musical); it was a step forward that changed the trajectory of my life. Mr. Thorne was noteworthy —as much for coaching the baseball team (and being our Ski Club advisor) as his American government classes, which often were derailed by questions that were unrelated to our studies. I loved Mrs. Brockett’s speech classes and also appreciated her work as director of theater productions in my junior year.. Mrs. Robinson—Spanish!—was young and pretty and a teacher who challenged and supported me.

There were other notable teachers while I was in school, but the two that I came to appreciate the most were Miss Hay, who taught English, and Mr. Politsky, who was the newspaper and yearbook advisor.

Miss Hay was a “take no prisoners” kind of teacher. She pushed me to become a better writer and to read with greater thought and attention to detail. Mr. Politsky must have had the patience of Job because he managed to keep our CSH Record newspaper/Levin yearbook staffs on track in the days when layouts were created with typed pages, razor blades, and a sticky kind of glue affixed onto paper.

At the time, I did not know that guidance from these teachers would be instrumental in my professional life. However, it was because I spent most of my career writing speeches, letters, annual reports, white papers, grants, and more. I also wrote and produced annual reports, membership brochures, media kits, event programs, and more (working closely with photographers and graphic designers). And I guided the early steps of several young college students who hoped to become writers or to work in the field.

The entire time I worked, I also wrote poetry and had a fair bit of luck publishing individual poems in a number of print and online journals and literary magazines. But, alas, I had precious little time to devote to writing and publishing until now—in my retirement.

These days I focus on writing and publishing. That focus has paid off with three of my poetry chapbooks accepted for publication in the last two years:

Just the Girls: A Kaleidoscope of Butterflies; A Drift of Honeybees is a female-centered book with poems written for and about women...a female publisher who lives in Portland, Oregon...and two young female artists who created the cover art. 

Widow Maker chronicles my husband’s 2015 cardiac arrest and recovery with poems that also honor caregivers and medical professionals.

The Galloping Garbage Truck is a fun and whimsical collection of poems for children with cover and inside art created by a female artist.

Would I have become a writer without teachers who seemed to see something special in me—a shy, quiet girl—and helped to cultivate those talents? I don’t know. But when I look back at years that made a difference, I am reminded of the poem Sweet Darkness by David Whyte which reads (in part):

anything or anyone
that does not bring you alive
is too small for you.

Teachers in my little hometown definitely helped to bring me alive. I’m grateful.