Everybody remembers that one teacher who rose above and went beyond to help and guide you. Whether it was staying behind to help you understand the coursework, or acting as a figure you could trust to support you in a difficult time, teachers have come to represent encouragement, guidance and nurturing.
That is also what Stephanie Scott represented to her students; she was a dedicated, bright and kind teacher who was adored by her students and by her colleagues.
The Weekly’s staff on Wednesday took a moment to celebrate the teachers who shaped us, educated us, and made us the people we are today.
And so did some of you. The readers.
Rest in peace, Stephanie.
If you would like to share your story of your favourite teacher, and how they shaped you, post your story on Facebook, Twitter, or Instagram with the hashtag #theteacherthatshapedme and tag us with @womensweeklymag.
Jim Murphy, Reader
Mine happened late in life. Well, about 16. His name is Mr. Joe Bernie he taught in Bolton St Collage in Dublin.
An ex engineer from NASA, he had a brilliant belief in all his students but expected you to contribute to his or her learning. He instilled in me a want to be the best I could be. I will never forget him.
Maryann Lea
Fiona Milne who taught me at Brunswick North Primary (VIC).
Whenever I find myself in a teaching pickle I always wonder, “What would Miss Milne do?”
Linda Bullard
Rosemary Greenwell, Warners Bay. She was #theteacherthatshapedme. So full of life and knowledge.
She knew our abilities and pushed me to do plenty of extension work without even realizing it. We had a big class.
She really influenced us with a live of multicultural awareness back then in the early 70’s. She was always organised. Her love of everything academic, artistic and singing rubbed off completely onto me!
Sally Harrold
My wonderful teacher Stan Warren, taught me more than the 3R’s, he taught me the value of family, respect, laughter and music.
Bryce Corbett, Executive Editor
“He sauntered into our classroom – all limbs and high-end literature. And from the moment he opened his mouth, he started opening our minds.
We were a bunch of awkward twelve year olds – in our first year of secondary school at Jannali Boys’ High in Sydney’s south.
To say that JBHS wasn’t renowned for its attachment to academia would be an understatement. To say it celebrated the arts over sport or humanities over science would be a flat-out lie.
But in the grand tradition of all good public high schools, if you wanted to learn, there was opportunity. You just had to dodge the fruit fights in the quadrangle at lunch time or the routine head-flushings to find it.
He was our English teacher and ‘The Wind In The Willows’ was our text. Where other English teachers would read each chapter out loud – their monotone barely penetrating the heaviness of a Sydney summer afternoon – Mr Doyle would act out every part. Mole, Ratty, Badger and Mr Toad all came vividly to life in that little weatherboard classroom. The words sprang off the page, the music of language was given life. And a lifelong love affair with books took root.
One afternoon, for no apparent reason, Mr Doyle marched us out onto the oval. Bemused but excited, we lay down on the grass and instructed and stared up at the sky while Mr Doyle recited poetry.
It was all very Dead Poet’s Society – and for suburban Sydney in the mid ‘80s, it was borderline scandalous.
Then, after term one school holidays, we all came back to discover Mr Doyle had disappeared. Weeks later, he appeared in Pizza Hut commercial, and months after that, he starred in the Bodyline mini-series. We were all star struck. Knowing someone who was on the telly was the height of amazing back then.
I met up with Mr Doyle twelve years later. I had gone on to become a young journalist and he had gone on to become an acclaimed and wildly-successful radio and TV broadcaster – better known to the country as Rampaging Roy Slaven. One half of the all-conquering Roy and HG comedy duo.
John Doyle, you were #theteacherthatshapedme and I salute you.
Sheree Mutton, Beauty and Health Director
“Mrs S. Summerfield at Menai High School was the #theteacherthatshapedme.
Thank you for encouraging me to pursue my dreams and value my education.
You created an environment where we were free to express our opinions and thoughts without judgement.
Your teachings extended far beyond the curriculum of commerce and business studies and you’ll be please to know that last month I interviewed our first business case study, Bobbi Brown.”
Jane Cramer, Executive Creative Director
“My son Jack hated school. Somehow he never fitted in. He was never himself.
He had behaviour problems, he lacked confidence and was lost, until in year 3, I sent him to a new school.
I really think Ms Frida was sent by angels. She changed this little boy into the beautiful man he is today.
I hated parent teacher interviews, I always dreaded what they were going to say.
So when I turned up on that first interview in Jack’s new school and sat down on that little chair. I can still hear her words.
“I love Jack; he is the most beautiful natured boy. In fact I would adopt him.”
I burst into tears, out came the tissue box and the beginning of his first happy year of school.
My Jack is now in year 12 and studying for his HSC, I have often though of the difference a great teacher can have on your life.
It’s more than the lessons they teach it’s how they make you feel about yourself. With confidence and a belief in your ability all things are possible.
Thank you, Ms Frida you made a difference, you are the #theteacherthatshapedme.”
Michael Sheather, Associate Editor
“She was far older than me, but still young, probably in her late 30s. I grew up in a small country town in rural NSW and #theteacherthatshapedme was a senior English teacher at my old high school, Mrs Thomas. More than any other teacher I ever encountered, she challenged me to take something I was good at – writing – and make it my dream.
In many ways, it was a closeted and insular community. For a young man to talk openly about how he wanted to become a journalist, to travel the world, to write, was something more than most people could absorb. It was too hard, too competitive, too far away. Yet Mrs Thomas, who had come to our school from the city, knew that the world wasn’t as big as it sometimes appeared and certainly not big enough to stop people reaching out.
As the Soviets invaded Afghanistan, as the Shah of Iran fled to Egypt in the face of the Islamic Revolution, as China invaded Vietnam and Rod Stewart asked Do Ya Think I’m Sexy?, I sat in Mrs Thomas’ English class with the perfect phrases of Percy Bysshe Shelley’s Ozymandias, Shakespeare’s Hamlet, Les A. Murray’s The Vernacular Republic and John Keats’ Ode On A Grecian Urn ringing in my ears. The world was burning, shouting, dancing and laughing just outside our classroom door and I couldn’t wait to be a part of it.
She called me to the teacher’s staff room one lunchtime, towards the end of Year 12. She asked what I wanted to do. I told her I wanted to be a journalist.
‘That’s what I once wanted to be,’ she said. ‘But I discovered that I loved literature more. Of course, you’ll find your own way, but I think you might have a flare for it.’
She gave me a hug – something teachers can’t do anymore – and wished me luck. I last saw her at the Year 12 farewell, when I asked her to dance.
It’s just possible I had a schoolboy crush on her, but then again, perhaps that was just youthful enthusiasm, something Mrs Thomas certainly had a flare for inspiring.”
Jessica Leahy – Digital Content Manager
“I attended St John Bosco High College in Syndey for the entirety of my High School education and while I had the privilege of having many good teachers, I don’t think any really understood how to teach me as well as Jane Kylie did.
I wasn’t a model student, I think as a person my teachers liked me but to integrate me into a class of 30 other students I’m told, was a challenge.
While I was often sent outside for being a distraction – I must have picked up a million papers – but it wasn’t like I didn’t enjoy school or understand the work, I liked it and I comprehended things just fine. However, for me sitting in a room for hours and just sticking to an already laid plan just didn’t interest me.
When it was Ms Kylie’s turn to teach me drama in my senior years it wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. I thought it would be hours of playing pretend and dressing up and doing funny voices. It wasn’t.
Turns out drama studies was lots and lots and lots (and lots) of reading. It felt like an English class, mixed with history class mixed with psychology class. I remember one very passionate argument I had about the fact that reading Waiting for Godot made me depressed.
‘Miss, I’m not reading that goddamn play for one more freaking second!’ I shouted. ‘I’m going to kill Samuel Beckett if I ever see him!’
Lucky for Samuel Beckett he was already dead, and lucky for me Miss Kylie encouraged colourful debate.
‘Miss’ was persistent. We were an entire class of girls in our senior year for drama and it was fine for us to not like something, as long as we could articulate ‘why?’
‘Why? Why? Why?’ It was always asked.
‘Why don’t you like it?’ or, ‘Why do you like it?’ and, ‘No, ‘because’ is not good enough!’
Learning became exciting and we began to think and question things for ourselves. Who is that character? Why would they do that? What does that tell you? So many questions, so many things to understand.
Eventually, thanks to all the reading and talking and tangents Miss took us on with her fancy cursive handwriting, she taught us that making good art is not a matter of chance – it is hard to do what Beckett did. To connect, to make people feel something through your work.
Jane Kylie was #theteacherthatshapedme because she triggered my ability to have a bigger appreciation of creative things. Without her, I don’t think I could have begun to understand things like theatre, film, literature, dance, music or anything I find interesting, the way I do now.
I will be forever grateful.”
