It seems as though my writing classes have kept me increasingly busy these days. My latest assignment required me to write an informal "Teacher of the Year" nomination within our high school.
Teachers are indispensable. Without them, America, us, our children -- we have no future. It is teachers that get up every morning and spend every day training our minds and inspiring our hearts. There is one in particular that has gone far beyond the requirements of her job description to teach me what I need to know.
I’ve known Katie Montgomery for around three and a half years now. I’ve also taken pretty much every course she offers: English, Debate, Forensics, ACT Prep, Theatre Production, and Technical Theatre, plus various plays she directs at our high school. I was even part of a group that she and her brother took on a trip to London this past summer. And at some point throughout all of this, I’ve ceased to call her "Ms. Montgomery" and now address her as "Monty."
You see, Monty isn’t your average high school instructor. She doesn’t stand at the front of the room with a solemn expression and proceed to give a monotone lecture that falls upon deaf ears. Though a strict follower of the rules, she has a fresh sense of humor, intelligence, enthusiasm, and a style that reaches out to students in a way that is both engaging and understandable. You can bet that when she speaks, not only will you benefit from the content of her message, but you'll also want to hear it.
As a senior, I am shocked by how fast high school has flown by (wasn’t Freshman orientation just yesterday?) and have been reflecting on what I've learned. I could go on and on about the history of the theatre, and I could explain underlying themes of English literature, and I could teach you the art of formal argument, and I certainly could reveal a Grammar Nazi side to my readers. With all of this information, academic tests are a breeze. What sets Monty apart from the rest, however, is that she doesn’t stop there. High school is, or at least should be, about preparing us for the real world when we have to face it on our own. When the safety net is cut down and the realities of life come into play, who is going to prepare us for that test? I am immeasurably grateful that someone was there to also teach me about that. I’m grateful that my confidence in my speaking ability has soared, that I know how to operate power tools and even a sewing machine, that amongst chaos I can problem-solve, that I can bite my tongue when I want to run my mouth, that I know how to include essentials in my travel bag instead of technological goodies should there be airport delays. I am grateful.
Monty has been there for us through kidney stones, nasty rumors, family deaths, and any other imaginable teenage crisis. Even when knucklehead students vandalize her driveway with ketchup male genitalia because they think it’s funny or cuss her out and attempt to punch her because their grammar was corrected, her level of sacrifice is astounding. Monday through Friday she gives her all from 7:40 in the morning to 2:40 in the afternoon, offers coaching after school, spends her Saturdays taking Debate and Forensics squads to tournaments, and directs the Fall and Spring plays, which require late-night practices and extensive set-building. I know for a fact there were some nights when she didn’t head home until after 11:00 p.m. – a 15-hour day. I have to say that this really means a lot. This woman is a real human being with her own fiancé, friends, and life outside of school, and that makes the things she’s done for us mean even more.
Ms. Montgomery – Monty – has been an extremely influential figure throughout high school. As I look ahead to the future, going it alone in college seems a bit intimidating. Yet I feel more prepared than I ever have for the challenges that lie ahead of me, and I have her to thank for that. Upon my next graduation, when it’s time for me to start a career of my own, I’ll be thinking about Monty and how she has affected the lives of so many people like me. The thing is, I’m going to be a teacher. And if I’m half the educator she is, I’ll be damn proud of myself.
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