Tomorrow we bury Mrs. Shirley Wagnon. She was my high school Spanish teacher. I was new to Sheffield High School in 1962, a junior who, having been in eleven schools since the first grade, was deficient in many areas. I was almost a lost cause. I took Spanish because I was beginning to want to go to college and I was also repeating the 11th grade. Mrs Wagon began the class my touching my shoulder and saying, Earl is a male, so he is el hombre en Espanol. To which I nodded heartily. Then she touched my shirt and said, But his shirt is feminine. I shook my head back and forth and exclaimed, No way! Mrs Wagnon grabbed my arm, hauled me out of my chair and took me out of class and into the hall. She slammed the classroom door as we left. Then she pushed me against the wall and put her finger in my face. You dont belong in this class with these students. I want you to drop this course today. Do you understand? I didnt. I was mad. I was having a bad enough time fitting into my eleventh school in twelve years and being told I didnt belong meant to me that I wasnt good enough to be where I was. As I tossed and turned that night, I determined to show Mrs Wagnon a thing or two. I studied hard for the first quiz and made a 100. I studied hard for the first Friday test and aced it as well. That felt good. I started studying for all my other courses, English, my second time through Algebra II, Chemistry, etc. The As started rolling in. Reverse psychology. Maybe. Mrs Wagnon turned out to be a kind and loving woman. Two years later I was a freshman at the University of Alabama taking college-level Spanish and making an A. Several years later, Spanish and German were the two foreign languages used to fulfill the foreign language requirement for my PhD in history at George Washington University. Ill be there tomorrow to say farewell. Gods rest my teacher, my dear friend. And thank you. Earl H. Tilford, PhD College Professor, (Retired)
Posted on: Wed, 05 Feb 2014 17:54:18 +0000