I have heard many people say that everyone has had a teacher make an impact on their lives. I have to admit that my mind had been jumping from memory to memory, trying to find my one teacher, until tonight, when I realized that the teacher who has had the biggest impact on my professional life has been … my mother.
My mother is a (not so) retired English teacher, in her early 70s who I have always known as madam teacher Gardescu. Tonight, many years after her retiring from teaching in Romanian public schools (but nit from teaching) she texted me about a moment that seemed depicted out of a movie. Except that it was real. I have not asked for her permission to share and I can only hope she won’t mind. The reasons I am sharing it in a blog post are many: pride, complete heart meltdown, a little job envy. But most of all because I think we live in a time that has dried out when it comes to real professional role models and the quick resolution that the classics no longer hold (I am basing this assertion on how hard it has been for my mom to fulfill one of her newer dreams – to find dedicated mentees and share her knowledge and passion – another story, for another time).
Tonight my mom texted me that she was in line at a small store by my parents’ home. She got in line at the cashier’s and realized she may have cut the line. So she addressed a really tall gentleman behind her: “Sir, I am sorry if I cut in line.” The answer came: “It is not a problem, madam teacher. You were my teacher. Thank you.” And before she could answer, the lady behind the imposing gentleman spoke: “And mine. Thank you!” And a third person down the line concluded: “And I thank you, on behalf of my child.”
Pause for a second and take the moment in. I wish I had been a fly on a wall. Or better yet, a valve particle in my mother’s heart to feel its fluttering. And I am immensely grateful, as the daughter of madam teacher Gardescu, that these people did not choose to stare into their phones and instead made this moment happen. It is moments like these that make me believe Dr. Brene Brown was right when saying that “we are inextricably connected by a power greater than us, grounded in love and compassion.”
My mother was never my teacher. Not in a class anyway. And the home tutoring in English does not count: she was too much my mother to be a cool teacher. But I had a front row seat to my mother being THE teacher for countless children. And those children’s children. And when I got the text today I reflected on what must have made my mom such a respect and loved teacher. And, right there, in the moment when I traveled back over four decades of my life with the speed of thought, I realized that my mother has been the best teacher for me, the one who showed me what it means to find what you love doing and do it well.
Today we are looking for the exceptional in every corner of our lives and professions. And nothing ordinary pleases us any longer. When in fact, as it has always been, the truest truths are such simple things. What I learned from my mother, an English teacher in southern Bucharest, is to respect my chosen profession, colleagues and clients and if possible, find a job I love. My mother also made a lie of the saying that if you find the job you love, you won’t work a day in your life. She has always worked hard, and, as I write this sentence I can see her, in my mind’s eye, returning from teaching an entire day to her family of four complicated children and … life. I remember thinking she looked like she gave it all. Thinking about it today, it feels sacrilegious that we put more burdens on her but we were her children and she was our mom so … .
Before I can remember, pregnant with my twin brothers, she would take a train, cross a field and teach children in villages, she taught Roma neurodivergent or simply poor and marginalized children in a suburb of Romania. Not English – she taught what was required. In those times communists did not care much for the language of Shakespeare. And when she was finally allowed to be the English teacher she had dreamt to be, she taught countless generations of children who now credit their obtaining a scholarship, making it in a foreign country or feeling comfortable when speaking a foreign language, to her. What was less visible, if at all, was that my mom had hundreds of pages of planning done every year, that she paid attention to the way she dressed, combed her hair, carried herself every single day in class, out of respect for her students (some of whom were as young as seven or eight) and a sheer reverence for her profession. Teaching to my mother has always been a sacred task. She realized early and never forgot that she had been gifted a space close to the souls of children and that every child had a story worth taking into account. She cared.
I am not sure if my mom had the best technology in her classroom: best books, handouts, computers or projecting devices. I am not so sure her classes were even on par with “21st century skills.” But what my mom had and, incredibly so for me, still does, was the ability to grow students, people, in the classroom, mold them with her knowledge and love for the British English language and culture, ability and willingness to see them and a true dedication for the profession. And, what do you know, they did not just turn out to be people who spoke good English. They turned out to be adults who, when they see a teacher in a local grocery store, openly recognize and thank them.
I am proud of you, madam teacher Gardescu! And thank you for the lessons!
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