For 12 years I taught sixth graders at Ardsley Elementary School in the Abington School District, Montgomery County, southeastern Pennsylvania, which bordered Philadelphia to the north. Ardsley’s grade levels spanned grades K through six. During that time, I had the pleasure of expanding the horizons of well over 300 students, all in room 119.
Our classrooms were self-contained, which meant I had to teach everything, from spelling and handwriting to math and science, with English and social studies in between. Adding to that mix, I had three reading groups to deal with. Needless to say, lesson planning was a real chore. Thankfully, art, music, and physical education were handled by specialists.
My first class, the class of 1963/64, was my favorite. It was loaded with academic talent, and the kids were well-behaved, which made my first experience of teaching a most pleasant one. I had a pet, of course, which I tried to steer clear of, but she was so outstanding in every way, I just couldn’t help it. Years later, I learned that she was teaching high school math in a neighboring school district.
Three years later I was “blessed” with my largest class size of my teaching career; 29 kiddos, some of whom sought pleasure in being the class clown. One such student outshone the rest, and it affected his achievement. He had a well-above average IQ, but “was not living up to his potential,” as our building principal so eloquently put it. Years later, to my pleasant surprise, this lad graduated from Penn State University with honors.
There were some scary moments during my career at Ardsley. During a morning recess, one of my students was showing off his skills on a swing, twisting and turning like an acrobat, and it cost him dearly. On a down swing, he collided with a post and broke his thigh. There he was sitting on his swing, writhing in extreme pain and crying his eyes out. It was awful. My next-door fellow teacher and I lowered the lad to the pavement, and in doing so, the boy screamed louder than ever. I was getting sick to my stomach. Fortunately, an ambulance was on the scene in only a matter of minutes. It took several weeks for the lad to make a full recovery. How fortunate he was.
On a balmy day in late May, my next-door teacher and I had our classes out for a softball game. It was a close game, and with the bases loaded, coming to bat was the best girl athlete in the entire class. As she took a mighty swing, her bat slipped out of her hands and struck the catcher just below his nose. Blood was streaming freely from his upper lip. In just a few seconds, my neighbor teacher had her handkerchief pressing firmly against his lip, then proceeded to walk him straight to the nurse’s office. Fortunately, the lad didn’t lose any teeth, and the game ended in a tie.
Finally, during my last year at Ardsley, I bonded with another “pet.” She was an excellent student and very popular with her classmates, and to put the “icing on the cake,” she was really cute. During a morning recess she and two other students remained in the classroom to help me with a class project. I was seated at a worktable facing the windows and wasn’t aware that she was sneaking up behind me. In a flash, she reached around and kissed me on my cheek. I was both thrilled and cautious, not reacting to this unexpected gesture, for if any teacher or my building principal had seen this sign of affection, who knows what the consequences may have been. The other girls giggled, and that was that.
P.S. On the last day of school, my “pet” walked up to me with outstretched arms, and this time I was ready for her. With my arms open as wide as I could, we embraced, tightly. It was heavenly. I knew I had a reason for entering the teaching profession.
