How it all began

teacher

When I was twelve years of age, I was constantly in trouble at school. I passed tests and exams with flying colours but I did precious little work or homework all year. My form desk was even removed from the classroom and placed beneath the staircase, much to everyone’s amusement. Still, nothing and nobody could make me care a jot about the work. That is until I was given a discredit for repeatedly not doing my French homework. This meant 10 credits would be removed from the house I belonged to, thus invoking the displeasure of my peers. My English literature teacher called me to her room and offered to give me one credit for every poem I could memorise and quote to her. That dear woman endowed me with a love of poetry I still have to this day. I can still remember each and every poem I committed to memory and barely a day goes by when I do not remember my  teacher’s dedication and kindness. 

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6 Comments

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6 responses to “How it all began

  1. Never would I have guessed such. The tribute to this teacher is so powerful in that what might seem horridly cruel punishment became a lifetime passion/pursuit. I am astonished on reread and wonder what this teacher managed to understand about you that the ‘punishment’ capitalized on an extraordinary memory. Thank you for this sharing Penny.

    • penelopephoebe

      Hiya Happy. My memory has been halved with age, sadly. Where once I had a photographic memory, now I need prompts. LOL.

  2. Pat .

    I take it that you more than got back the 10 credits?! And, you can’t speak French?
    Teachers can have a dramatic impact on us – the good ones and the bad ones.

  3. andro51

    This is a lovely recollection of the past, how we learn so well from these instances. In fact you have not only learnt a lesson from it, you have been able to use this time in your life to generate a very positive field of learning, a lifetime of beautiful literature, poems that have bared the fruits of their creativeness and etched a wondrously fine taste of sweetness throughout your whole life, this is indeed a lovely train of thought, but to live the dream is something rather different; a life of the loves of poetry is something well worth all the effort my wicked friend and thank you for sharing this with us…

    Androgoth XXx

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