ms. talon: a teacher

Throughout the years, I have had a few teachers that I particularly liked and admired because of their singular qualities and/or standout teaching style, which made the learning process an enjoyable and a stimulating experience. This realization only crystallized when I actually graduated from college because by then I was old enough to acknowledge and distinguish how this or that particular teacher had shaped (consciously or unconsciously) the way I think and look at things.

For some reason, the mentor that I remember most was my high school English teacher.

There was nothing physically remarkable or intimidating about Ms. Talon. She barely topped 5 feet and had a retiring nature that belied her quick intellect. She dressed neatly and rarely drew attention when she walked down the halls. Yet, when she spoke to us in her soft, cultured voice, the whole class strained forward to listen. She was well-read, knew her subject inside and out, and she spoke without a trace of accent. Above all, she never made us feel insecure or embarrassed as we grappled to learn the basics in English — thereby earning our undying loyalty and affection. She would correct us gently, flashing her encouraging smile even as we mangled our similes and metaphors. She never raised her voice in disgust. Not that she had to. A mild reproof from her hurt worse than a public tongue-lashing.

Ms. T, who was in her middle 20s when we first knew her, had a gift for storytelling. With few, well-chosen words, she would reduce thick, intimidating classics (Tess of the D'Urbervilles, Wuthering Heights, Vanity Fair) into something that we could actually understand or identify with. In fact, she was the main reason why most of us turned to reading and literature as a way to improve ourselves and to discover the hidden delights of being able to read, write, and speak English well.

Unfortunately, we didn't have her for long. A year later, her family relocated to a distant town. For a few days we wandered around in shock, loudly exclaiming against the injustice of it all. I remember clearly the day she left, because it was the only time I saw several people, including a couple of school troublemakers, actually blubber while some of us pretended we had the 'sniffles'. 

We never I saw her again after that, although occasionally snippets of how she was doing in her new school would filter down to us. We used to pretend she was just away on a long vacation, and that one day she would appear in front of the class and tell us to "open your books and go to page 112, and discuss how..."