05/24/2006: When I look back at my education, I had very few outstanding teachers. Perhaps the best of the bunch was my 11th grade algebra teacher: Mr. Opdyke. My 10th grade chemistry teacher—Mr. Klimovich—was also a huge influence, as was my 11th grade physics teacher, Mr. Calamia.
However, the best teacher I had was my first stepmother: Marie.
I was a problem kid at school. In fairness to the teachers, I was a first-rate pain in the ass. My attention span was terrible, and I was a behavior problem. However, Marie did a few things for me during my grade school life that were pivotal in my education.
When I was in first grade, she bought me many books to supplement me as I was learning how to read. As a result, I not only learned reading, but I became a first-rate speller. She bought me one of those puzzles of the United States. Playing with that, I soon learned all the states, and the capitals.
When I was in second grade, we often went to the Air Force Museum at Wright-Patterson AFB. That helped foster an interest in aerospace to which I would eventually return for my college days.
When I was in third grade, she bought me a world atlas and a globe. Before long, I was slaughtering the rest of the class in geography. I knew all the countries of Europe. Asia, and Africa. And yes, I knew how to find Afghanistan and Iraq and Pakistan on a map. I knew that Kermanshah, Iran was within a hundred miles of Baghdad.
When I was in fourth grade, she bought me a microscope and a chemistry set for Christmas. As a result, I would gain an interest in science that school had not given me. As I grew in my interest in human anatomy, she helped foster that: she bought me models of the human brain and heart.
When I was in fifth grade, she bought me a calculator for Christmas. I spent long hours playing with it, and—before long—I became very adept with numbers, including decimals.
In sixth grade, I lost her to divorce. The reason for that is not relevant here.
My dad provided the motivation for education after that. His style was different, but successful. One of the things he pushed on me was this: no matter where you are, you must progress to the next level.
In other words, when I was entering 9th grade, I took Algebra I and biology for my math and science. Not because I aspired to a career in medicine or engineering (honestly all I cared about was sports at the time), but because they were the next classes at that level for which I was eligible. I made Cs in those classes.
In 10th grade, I opted for geometry and chemistry. After all, those were the next classes up. By that time, I was enjoying Latin so much that I aspired toward becoming a scholar in the classics, or progressing to law school. I made Bs across the board in geometry and chermistry. In Latin, I was all As.
In 11th grade, I opted for Algebra II and physics. After all, those were the next math/science classes up. I had no intention of pursuing careers involving either—I was still dead-set on Latin, Greek, and the classics—but it was understood that I had to progress. I made Cs in Algebra, As in Latin, and Bs in physics.
In 12th grade, I opted for trigonometry and AP Chemistry. I needed a math class, and trig was the next one up. Since I enjoyed 10th grade chemistry, I figured the AP version would also be nice. I also added AP European History, because I heard it was tough. I wanted to run with the big dogs.
In the middle of 12th grade, something amazing happened: I figured out what I wanted to pursue (well, sort of). I rediscovered my interest in aviation, and decided to pursue a military career as an Air Force pilot. I realized that—to maximize my chances at success—I needed to major in engineering. So I chose Embry-Riddle Aeronautical University, with a major in aeronautical engineering.
To make a long story short, I failed the medical for the military (asthma), but stayed on to earn my engineering degree. From there, I pursued a career in information technology, securing my first two jobs directly as a result of my engineering background.
Here are the takeaways:
(1) What Marie did for me in those formative years made my accomplishments in high school possible.
(2) In spite of my otherwise mediocre performance in grade school, Marie equipped me for long-term success by doing little things that carried high impact.
(3) My dad’s pushing me to progress to the next level made my choice in college majors possible.
(4) While some of my teachers were good, the things that mattered most were the things Marie—and my dad—did for me.
While I was not “home schooled†in the traditional sense of the word, the things I learned at home made my academic successes possible.
As a result, when policy wonks—and pseudo experts—bloviate about throwing more money into education (even though we spend more per student now than we did 60 years ago), I cannot help but question their wisdom.
It is not that educators don’t care, or that they are stupid people. It’s that the most fundamental problems in education are problems that governments and policy wonks cannot address. It’s about the integrity and commitments within families.
You cannot legislate that, nor can you regulate it from a government agency.