“A
teacher affects eternity; he can never tell where his influence stops.”
Henry Adams
Miss Macklewein had a real knack for keeping
the kids on their toes. She was a master educator and an ornery woman. This
colorful eccentric taught English, and conjugations were her specialty.
Miss Macklewein put the fear of God in all of us; we both feared her and liked
her, too, for that matter. And for good reason. Consequences were sure and
quick. “Old Miss Mac,” as the kids secretly called her, was an equal-opportunity
teacher; she discriminated against everyone. While some teachers believed in
the “don’t smile until Christmas” theory of student management, Miss Macklewein
simply believed in “Don’t ever smile.” It really worked for her. Nor did Miss
Macklewein believe any student when it came to homework; hence she didn’t feel
the least bit of empathy for any excuse a student might give when any
assignment was not completed and turned in on time. When Linda Rund said she
didn’t have time to do her homework because she had to watch her brothers and
sisters while her father took her mother to the hospital to have the new baby,
and when Steve Yoder told her he hadn’t done his homework because he played in
the evening’s Junior Varsity football game against the Spencer Mohawks, in
Spencer, Iowa, and didn’t get home until 11:30, she retorted, “I didn’t ask you
why you didn’t have your homework done; I asked if it had been completed. I’ll
see you after school!” Even when a student gave a reason, like “I didn’t do it
because I didn’t know how,” it was no use. All excuses went unexcused. This
sort of accountability meant we always did our grammar homework. It also
stimulated a real buddy system. If anyone from English class asked you if they
could copy your completed assignment for Miss Macklewein’s class, you forked
over your paper—because if a student didn’t have his work done, the entire
class was assigned additional homework. It was safe to say she ran a tight
ship. Old Miss Mac was a work of art—a perfect candidate to illustrate one
of those humorous birthday cards where a cranky old woman on the cover doles
out a sarcastic comment about getting older. She certainly looked the part. Old
Miss Mac’s long hair was dyed pitch black. She wore it parted in the middle,
with two braids—each going in opposite directions, wrapped around her head. We
were sure that she powdered her face with white cornstarch. On each cheek sat
two perfect circles of bright red rouge. Her tiny pursed lips were painted
vivid red, as were her fingernails. This already imposing image was
over-shadowed by her trademark sheer black nylons with the heavy black seams
running up the backs of her legs. When she turned her back to the class to
demonstrate on the blackboard the obvious simplicity of the elaborate
complexity of diagramming, all eyes checked to see just where those seams might
be heading off on this day! For some unknown reason the students took a great
deal of interest in those seams. Should they be crooked, we would all look at
each other and begin a round of uncontrollable laughter, all the while not
letting Old Miss Macklewein think that she was the object of our witty humor.
It was a huge mistake to be caught laughing; when her eyes fell upon you, you’d
better stop immediately, because if Miss Macklewein saw you smirking, she would
call you to the board and in front of everybody, make you diagram the exercises
in the review section of the book.
Besides being a masterful educator, Miss
Macklewein was very effective with her students. For her you got your homework
done, you got to class on time and once in class, it was unlikely that you
spent your time writing notes to your friends or doing anything else that would
break your concentration from the work at hand.
It’s surprising how much you can learn when
you’re paying attention in class! My day of reckoning with Old Miss Mac came
unexpectedly as I watched the school bus pull away after delivering thirty-some
other kids and me to school one crisp spring morning. It wasn’t the sight of
the bus that made my heart stop and my stomach seize; it was the realization
that I had left my backpack carrying my precious, all-important English
homework under my seat in the bus, and the bus was now on its way to the
district office. I knew without that homework I was a dead duck, and because it
was Friday I would be the scourge of the class, being the one responsible for a
hefty homework assignment for everyone over the weekend. Not to mention the
hours of conjugation torture I was sure Old Miss Mac would have in store for me
after school.
I had no choice. Whatever it took, I had to
get that homework assignment back, and fast! I looked at the plastic watch on
my wrist and calculated I had exactly nine-and-a-half minutes before the bell
rang for English class. My plan of attack formed instantaneously. Run! Without
a second thought I sprinted through the schoolyard. If I could cut through the
gymnasium, around the girls’ locker room, across the basketball courts, down to
the baseball diamonds and over to the football field, I could jump the back
chain-link fence, hopefully in time to head off the bus, flag down the driver,
retrieve my backpack and run back to Old Miss Mac’s class—before the bell rang!
My race with the bell was on, and I ran as fast as my legs and feet would take
me. I became determination in motion.
Unfortunately, my black patent leather Mary
Janes weren’t quite up to the task. I made it past the gym and girls’ locker in
record time, but when the terrain changed from the asphalt of the basketball
court to the dew-covered grass of the baseball diamond, the smooth leather
soles of my Mary Janes sent me tumbling down the hill leading to the dugout.
The grass had just been cut and was left in large piles approximately three
feet high and about as wide, ready to be collected later in the afternoon after
it had dried out a bit. As luck would have it, my crash course placed me
headfirst into one of those grass mounds. For a moment everything went GREEN!
Now I understood why they waited until the grass dried to collect it. It’s
because wet grass clings to everything, and I was covered with it. I must have
looked like the Loch Ness monster scrambling around on my hands and knees, sputtering
as I tried to get the hundreds of blades of grass off me. And then I
remembered—the homework, Old Miss Mac, the bus! I leaped to my feet, and once
again the race was on. Panicked, I checked my watch; my green collision had
cost valuable time. I had five minutes left. I can still make it! I said to
myself.
As I ran over the fifty-yard line of the
football field I saw the bus round the corner, headed for my anticipated point
of interception. Waving my arms, running with all my might and yelling to catch
the bus driver’s attention, I jumped onto the chain-link fence and crawled my
way up to the top of it. With my shoe wedged tightly in the chain link I
balanced myself on the top of the fence and swung one leg over to the other
side. Now straddling the fence, I tried to swing my other leg over, but my Mary
Jane was so tightly wedged into the chain link and my position so awkward, I
was stuck. Again the vision of Old Miss Mac entered my mind, and a feeling of
utter helplessness and doom ran through my body as I heard the rough engine
sounds of the school bus pass behind me and continue down the street. Tears of
frustration and dread streamed down my cheeks. I had failed, and to make
matters worse I was stuck on top of the fence covered with wet grass and mud.
All I could do was cry. And then I heard a familiar voice. “Bettie Burres, is
that you up there?” I strained to turn my body so I could see who was talking
to me from behind. It was Mr. Lewellen, the bus driver. “I just happened to
glance up in my rear view mirror and saw you squirming up there. I figured you
were after something pretty important. Here, let me help you with your shoe.”
He gently unbuckled my shoe so I could free my foot and helped me down off the
fence. “Is this what you were after?” he said as he handed me my backpack. My
arms flew around his waist as I hugged and thanked him. And once again Old Miss
Mac’s ominous figure entered my mind, and I realized I had ground to cover if I
was to have any chance of beating the bell. So with a boost from Mr. Lewellen I
was back over the fence, across the football field, through the baseball
diamond, up to the basketball courts, around to the girls’ locker room, left to
the library and down the hallway to the second door on the right. I entered Old
Miss Mac’s classroom gasping for air, covered with blades of fresh green grass
in my hair, and all the way down to my shoes. I looked as if I’d played nine
innings. As I slipped into my seat with seconds to spare, I felt an incredible
feeling of accomplishment, relief and pride, somehow knowing that day, I’d
learned the true meaning behind Rudyard Kipling’s words, “We have forty million
reasons for failure, but not a single excuse.”
I wasn’t the only one who learned Old Miss
Mac’s lesson, nor am I the only one who admired her. Even Donald Kleppe
respected her and had learned more from her than any other teacher in his years
of schooling, or so he said at the twenty-year class reunion. At first, I was
surprised that Donald had been the one selected to do a tribute to Miss
Macklewein, because on more than one occasion she had said to him, “I’ve shown
you twice; how much more explanation do you need?” (What she really said was,
“Just exactly how dumb can you be?”) She expected an answer to the question.
Not that Donald could give one. Grammar just wasn’t his subject. She called
Donald “The Mental Giant.” When she needed to get his attention she would say,
“Let’s ask The Mental Giant.” On cue all eyes turned in his direction, waiting
for him to notice that a question had been fielded and that a reply—from
him—was in order. Eventually he would notice that all had become quiet. With a
look of sincerity he invariably asked, “Why is everyone looking at me?” But on
second thought, I realized that Donald knew her nature and so, by smiling
sweetly and feigning innocence, he skillfully transformed Miss Macklewein’s use
of him as the butt of the joke into an out for not producing an answer to her
question. Donald knew what he was doing.
“Old Miss Mac was a great teacher because she
demanded excellence from all of us,” Donald said in the speech honoring her.
“Could that woman get our attention, or what! Old Miss Mac scared me to death.
She had the congeniality of a pit bull.” He laughed good-naturedly and then
somberly added, “Old Miss Mac was great because she cared so much. What a
phenomenal educator. She was simply the best. So unwavering in her commitment!
I learned in her class first, and then again and again throughout my life, that
we either make excuses or get the job done.”
I looked at the sea of my classmates’ faces
at the reunion—all faces were smiling.
“To care about your students as much as she
did is to love them,” Donald continued. “If the old gal was with us
tonight—though she probably is—I’d give her a hug and a kiss and tell her what
a huge part she played in the successes I’ve known throughout my life.” After a
long pause he said, “So, this is to the teacher who made us all wet our pants.
I loved her for it! I suspect the rest of you probably feel the same way. Thanks,
Miss Macklewein.” He paused again and added, “You were a real jewel. You made
such a huge difference in my life. Thank you.” And to seal his words, he held
up his glass, a gesture of toast in her honor. With that, the master of
ceremonies cleared his throat, wiped his eyes and stepped down. And the rest of
us dabbed at our tears. Clearly, we revered—and adored— this woman, a master
educator who taught us to put aside all excuses and simply get the job done.
What an important contribution and skill this would be to our lives—and
throughout our lives.
Bettie
B. Youngs, Ph.D., Ed.D.
1976 Iowa Teacher of the Year (From Chicken Soup for
the Teacher’s Soul, Copyright 2002.)
1.
From which point of view is this story written?
a.
First person
b.
Second person
c.
Third person limited
d.
Third person omniscient
2.
The main idea of the story is
a.
Students are scared of their teacher.
b.
A student reflects upon the teaching style of
one of her teachers.
c.
A student chases a bus and is late for class.
d.
A teacher is mean towards one of her students.
3.
The narrator is best described as
a.
A young man in a middle school classroom.
b.
A young lady in a middle school classroom.
c.
A former student in Miss Macklewein’s class.
d.
A current student in Miss Macklewein’s class.
4.
Which word does the author use to reveal the
characterization of Miss. Macklewein?
a.
Compassionate
b.
Lazy
c.
Normal
d.
Masterful
5.
Which statement best describes the theme
suggested in this story?
a.
Sometimes the more difficult teachers help you
the most in life.
b.
Don’t be late to school.
c.
Always make sure that you turn in work on time.
d.
Don’t judge a book by its cover.
6.
Which phrase reflects the author’s attitude
toward Miss. Macklewein?
a.
“Old
Miss Mac’s long hair was dyed pitch black.”
b.
“She
expected an answer to the question.”
c.
“Old
Miss Mac scared me to death. She had the congeniality of a pit bull.”
d.
“Clearly,
we revered—and adored— this woman, a master educator who taught us to put aside
all excuses and simply get the job done.”
7.
Which features tell the reader that this is an
example of narrative nonfiction?
a.
It has a plot, conflict, and characters.
b.
It has a sequence of events.
c.
It is told in chronological order.
d.
It contains irony.
8.
Which of the following causes the narrator to
try to catch the school bus?
a.
She forgot her homework on the bus.
b.
She left her jacket on the bus.
c.
She was trying not to be late to school.
d.
All of the above.
