You didn’t get here on your own. Thank your teachers.
Watching the teacher walkouts this week in Oklahoma and other states — including my niece Rachel Pilant in Broken Arrow, OK — and reading Senator Elizabeth Warren’s statement about her teacher Mrs. Lee, got me thinking about the teachers who influenced me and contributed to my life. They are as much a part of my development as my family and friends — in some cases more. Here are just a few:
9th Grade — Learning to Love Algebra & Seeing Myself in Math
Having attended more schools than I can count during elementary school (we moved A LOT), I had a really disjointed, non-linear math education. Come 8th grade my school counselor was recommending I take remedial math going in to high school. I refused. I was bored with long division and fractions, and just didn’t want to do it anymore. I was certain I was NOT a math kid. Then I took Algebra from the most magical teacher. She truly loved the beauty and utility of math, and she made Algebra not only interesting, but fun. Though her name escapes me 30+ years hence, her image is burned into my memory. She always wore a tailored jacket over a blouse and kept a handkerchief tucked into her sleeve to wipe chalk from her hands. She led us step-by-step through the wonders of Algebra with a sparkle in her eye.
10 through 12th Grade — Surviving a Hostile Environment
In 10th grade we moved yet again. This time to a small town in Oregon supported by logging, farming and a cannery. The students there had been going to school together since kindergarten, and I was an outsider. It was brutal. I was new, poor, chubby, awkward, and had all the wrong clothes. I experienced my classmates as cruel, unfriendly and cliquish — though I realize now they probably all had their own issues. I took refuge in the Art studio with Mrs. Frohreich, where I drew, painted and sculpted my way through three very hard years. The acceptance and encouragement I received from her was critical to not only my success, but my survival.
College — Incubating a Professional, Feminist, Rabblerouser
I arrived at Lewis & Clark College fresh from the farmland of Willamette Valley Oregon, naive and wide-eyed. Fall term Freshman year I took Basic Inquiry — an interdisciplinary on-ramp to liberal arts — from professor of German studies Dinah Dodds. She was simultaneously diminutive and intimidating, opinionated and inspiring, and the first self-described Feminist I’d ever met (there are many other women in my life who I would count as Feminists, like my grandma Emma, but didn’t call themselves that). She studied the experiences of women in Germany and Europe, including prostitutes in the red light districts of big European cities. She was so academically glamorous.
Then there was bad-ass gender warrior, art professor Phyliss Yes. She feminizes male objects with lace — like ladders, guns, hard hats, and even a Porsch (titled PorShe) that she drove cross-country. She questioned gender roles and norms, spurred disruption, and challenged us to expand our range of vision. She even threw off the constraints of her given name, and chose her own — Yes. She made a huge impact on how I viewed womanhood.
Jean Ward, professor of communications and founder of the Gender Studies program, opened my eyes to the missing stories of women’s contributions to society and history, and the ongoing struggle for even accomplished women like her to be heard and recognized. She laid the foundation of many my feminist views and passion for equity.
During a year overseas in Munich, Angela Jung was a teacher, mentor and mother to all of us. She dedicated 34 years to international education and understanding, guiding students through an intensive and often transformative immersion into another culture. In our case, the Berlin wall had just fallen and Germany was changing rapidly. When war broke out in the Gulf halfway through our program, she comforted us and reassured our parents, as she had through many other international crisis over the years.
Janice Lochner, professor of biochemistry, was the first person to suggest I had a mind for science and math. I had hoped to take Physiology of Nutrition pass/fail to fulfill a graduation requirement. She wasn’t having it. Ultimately I ended up leading study groups and helping other students through the course. Years later we landed on a panel together on advancing women in STEM fields. I talk about her influence in nearly every speech I deliver.
Call to Action— Thank Your Teachers
Those of us in positions of influence, no matter how large or small, have a duty to recognize those that helped us along the way — especially our teachers. So, the next time you are getting an award, giving a speech, or being recognized in a public forum — acknowledge the teacher that got you started in a subject you grew to love, the professor that inspired you to see yourself differently, the coach who pushed you to see your true potential, and even the teacher that failed you when you deserved to fail. Thank them for doing an often thankless job, and investing their time and knowledge in your future. Also, vote for people and policies that will give educators the resources to incubate the next generation of leaders.
Shoutout to all the teaching professionals in my family: Mary Pilant, Joe Mack, Rachel Pilant, Jennifer Jeffers, and Martha Miller!
