Today, I am going to do Scott’s Daily Prompt a bit differently. He has a great question to get me gabbing and rambling about my 6th Grade teacher who introduced me to writing.
Today’s prompt is.
Tell us about a teacher who had a real impact on your life, either for the better or the worse. How is your life different today because of him or her?– Scott Andrew Bailey, Scott’s Daily Prompt 08/01/2022
In the sixth grade, it was the first time that we went from classroom to classroom when the bell rang. My homeroom teacher was Ms. Quartier, and my first-period class would be with Mr. Hall. He was the English teacher, and I figured we would only be doing grammar and usage. He had a whole unit on poetry and creative writing, and I fell in love. I started writing poems that rhymed all over the place and on different topics.
Here’s the funny thing about it though…
I did not like my homeroom teacher very much, and I wrote a poem about her. I left it inside my desk at the end of the day when the last bell rang to go home. We had the desks that the seat and desk were one unit, and the desktop lifted up. There was storage for books and such in there. I remember stuffing it under a book inside of my desk.
Long story short, my mom was called because Ms. Quartier found the poem inside my desk, which now really bothers me, and makes me think she was snooping rather than checking to see if I left any work behind. *eye rolls* I still remember what the poem said, but I think after having a meeting with my teacher that my mom tossed it in the trash.
Now mind you, I was little. I was obsessed with rhyming.
The poem went like this:
Is a ____________. (I didn’t know what it meant back then, but I won’t write it now.)
She drinks beer.
By a pier
While looking at a steer
That’s all that I remember on that. It got me in so much trouble. It had like 8 more lines that I do not recall.
The next day, I went back to school after a late-night meeting with my mother, mother’s boyfriend at the time (who was on the school board…), and Ms. Quartier. The homeroom was awkward because the teacher was still mad at me, and I could not wait to go to Mr. Hall’s class.
In my mind, he was in trouble too. It was his fault that I was rhyming and writing about everyone and everything.
I get to his class, and he could tell that I was not my normal self. I was usually excited and answered all his questions. I just sat at my desk staring blankly at him. I probably was mean-mugging him too *laughs*
He paused class to check on me. He called me out into the hallway, and I explained to him that “I was busted because of rhyming about Ms. Quartier”. He chuckled at me because he had already been made aware of the situation from the night before.
He asked me a question that none of the other adults asked me, and it was, “Do you know what the word means that you rhymed with Ms. Quartier?” I, of course, said that I did not. He explained it, and I felt bad. I was just using the word because I had heard all of my friends say it when they didn’t like someone. A derogatory term for people who love others of the same sex, which I am bisexual…so I would have never called someone such a term.
It did not stun my rhyming nonsense and prose, as you can see from my blog, but I did go and apologize to my teacher for calling her a word that shall still go unsaid directly when I got back to homeroom.
It was a lesson that you should not always say everything that you hear your friends say. It was also a lesson that Mr. Hall cared for me. I was always showcased for my poetry in class, and I was definitely the teacher’s pet.
After his class and getting older, I was able to contact him and talk to him about writing. He was a great mentor and teacher. I wonder now if he is still around to thank him for his wisdom and inspiration to be a writer.
I actually ended up loving Ms. Quartier in high school. She was my algebra teacher, and she was the first one to make me understand equations. However, I still despise Math. Math and I are not friends at all.