Everybody has a teacher that they never forgot. One that was encouraging, or influenced and inspired you a certain way. I've had several, some from each stage of my school career. Maybe I'll write about some of the others another day. Today I want to talk about my 10th grade Honors English teacher, Mr. Ernie Chamberlain.
Each day of class had a different theme. Monday was spelling day, with a 10 word quiz, Wednesday was Greek roots and vocabulary day with quiz, Thursday was sentence skills day (grammar) and Friday was speech day. When not doing these activities, we'd either be acting out a play, or be discussing topics such as Jungian psychology, religion, good vs. evil, etc. We'd apply these themes to whatever book we happened to be reading.
I wasn't exactly a star student in his class. English was always my best and favorite subject. Although I understood most of what we studied, I couldn't really prove it. I got easy A's in curriculum 1 in 9th grade, so I thought I'd do fine in a harder class. I had no trouble with the material, or workload. But for whatever reason, I didn't do well on the exams. Mr. Chamberlain's philosophy was to get us to produce under pressure. A good idea, but I wilted under the pressure! Many tests were too long for me to complete.
I didn't do well on the essays, either. Mostly C's and a few B's. But reading his comments was a real ego crusher. I don't know what the other kids wrote, but my work was sub-par most of the time, "thin" and not grasping whatever he was looking for.
Despite my struggles, I really enjoyed the class. I finally redeemed myself in the 4th term, when instead of a final exam, we had to write a term paper. The paper would count for three tests. When I got an A, it brought my grade for the term up to a B, and the year up to C+. What a thrill! I can still remember how I felt, finally breaking through.
The essay was to take a fable and update it to modern times. I chose "Don't count your chickens before they hatch", and it was about a Bruins fan who thought her team would win the Stanley Cup that year. Of course they didn't, in real life or in my fictional story. I was so proud of myself when he told the class I had the best story. Normally, the student got to read their paper out loud to the class, but for some reason, I didn't get the chance. Maybe he thought I didn't want to, since I never volunteered to speak up in class. In any event, it meant a lot to me. I know I still have the paper somewhere, but I can't find it. I just remember him saying in his comments "This is a side of Karin Porter I've never seen!"
Fast forward two years, to 1986. I was nearing graduation, and I was writing more and more. I always liked to give my work to friends to critique. He was nice enough to read a big folder of non-fiction essays about a variety of subjects. I still have the note he wrote, with words that still make me feel good today.
"Karin,
Thank you for sharing your writings with me. All the way through there are glimpses of a real person at work. Your humor and sense of the trivial-made-great shines forth at every turn of the paragraphs.
My favorite here is "Sylvester". Silly and your cup are rare treasures. Your seasons of "summer" and "winter" also are both interesting and insightful-the January thaw bit hits today on the "nose".
Keep working on such things as the smell of freshly cleaned clothes, etc. Again, thanks and keep it up.
It occurs to me your name is very similar to that of Katherine Anne Porter- anyone ever tell you that?
------ Ernest C.
PS-There's a distinct personality to these writings that is rare and should be cultivated. Most people's writing is "faceless."
Sylvester (mentioned above) was my cat, who died an untimely death being hit by a car. But most of the story was about his personality.
The final English paper I wrote, in May '86, (with a different teacher) was called "Me and my High school years". It covered four years, but part of it was what I wrote about here, how much Mr. C influenced me. I asked him to read it, and I was surprised at how humble he was, and how I made him realize how good a teacher he was.
On the last day of school, I asked Mr. C to pose with the cup he mentioned above. It was a ceramic mug my mom made, painted in the Bruins black and gold (actually yellow, and I think in my story there was a derogatory remark about the Bruins being "yellow"!)
After high school, I kept in touch with Mr. C, as well as the librarians. When I started my Bruins newsletter, and was writing for "Boston Sports Report" in the early 90's, I sent them copies, and they were all happy and excited for me. I was, too! I found out from Mrs. Nelson, the head librarian, that he had retired, so she forwarded my newsletters to him (I had sent them to the school.) He wasn't a sports fan, so he didn't understand all the hockey jargon in my articles, but he did like my newsletter and my writing style.
Over the next few years, Mr. Chamberlain wasn't my teacher, he was my friend. He took me out to lunch a few times, and one year it happened to be my mom's birthday the day I saw him, so we stopped at the supermarket and he bought my mom some potted flowers. I have another vague memory of driving around and going to Needham, so I could show him the convent where I was working as a cook. We got pulled over, I think because I didn't have my seat belt on! At least he didn't get a ticket. We always planned on getting together with the librarians, but it didn't happen.
It was always nice to see him, and he talked about some of his other students he had kept in touch with. One of them was Nancy Glass, who back in the 90's was on TV quite often as a news reporter and on magazine-type shows. I thought that was pretty cool.
It was a little funny, I always called him "Mr. Chamberlain", and after I was out of school, he was always telling me to "call me Ernie!" but I never felt comfortable with it. Kind of like Mary Richards always calling her boss "Mr. Grant" instead of "Lou".
His wife passed away suddenly in 1994, from e-coli poisoning; from tainted well water. Mr.Chamberlain was never quite the same after that. I could tell he was melancholy, but there wasn't much I could do about it. I got busy with work, and we eventually lost touch. In between, I sent him my homemade cookies, which he loved, and he sent me Christmas gifts a couple of times-stationary, blank writing journals, and other small things. I still have them (of course.)
At some point, I must have wrote him, and he never responded. I did a search online, and I was saddened to see he had passed away in 2010. When reading his obit, I learned more about his early days, and his military service.
I don't usually write a post like this one, where I'm tooting my own horn, and rambling on and on. Over the years, I've thought of writing about him many times. When I found all the old letters, pictures and essays, it seemed like the right time.
A few days ago I looked him up on Legacy.com, and there were dozens of people who left written tributes to him. I wasn't his only fan. Many students spoke of his work in the school theater productions. I never saw him do any of that, I really didn't know anything about it.
Where he had no children, I don't know if he has relatives I can contact. But I will post my own message soon. He was a nice man, and I can still remember the way he laughed. I hope he can see that even though I'm not a "real" published author, I have stayed true to my roots with this blog. I really DO celebrate the "trivial-made-great"!
Thank you, Mr. Chamberlain. You were a splendid teacher, who your students remember fondly.
Teachers don't always get the credit they deserve. They can truly change lives, and sometimes us students can change theirs.
