hmmmm.
I wrote an essay a while ago on a teacher that I liked a lot in elementary school. . . ... . .
“I can cross the widest sea, I can climb the highest mountain, I am a promise with a Capital P!” I sang those words when I was part of my elementary school choir from grades 3 through 5, which was pretty ordinary and normal as elementary school choirs go, if one can overlook the fact that everyone in the choir had a major hearing loss and the choir sang to dignitaries such as the King of Sweden on a fairly regular basis. But as I get older, I understand more and more the great personal sacrifices of my third grade teacher and director, Mrs. Landis for her incredible gift of strength and kindness to us all. I can still vividly remember how badly I wanted to be in her class, when I was in 1st and 2nd grade. I can still recall how thrilled I was to actually get in her class, and my first year in the choir. However, she was able to influence me in subtle ways to end bad habits with song and music. In the choir, I was exposed to many cosmopolitan cuisines and got to see the world a little bit. After I left her class and continued to progress in the 4th and 5th grade, I can remember my growing awareness of the magnitude of her strength and scarifies even while I was struggling with classes.
I was green with envy from the moment I saw what was happening in Mrs. Landis’ room. Every week, the entire department of Millridge Center for the Hearing Impaired (there were about 60-70 kids) would get into the music room, and play Simon says or sing. Since most of us couldn’t hear the piano or understand meter or pace, she would mouth out the words as we went along, which was very effective as we could all read lips very well. But the kids in her class got to have this kind of fun every day, and do it yet again for choir, as all the kids in her class were automatically in the choir. Other times, I would pass her room and the smell of pastries would waft into the corridors and I would wonder why the heck they got to eat doughnuts that day. I turned another shade of green when she got her kids hermit crabs. Hermit crabs are so ugly they look like shrunken Martians that fell down ugly tree and hit every branch on the way down. In other words they were very, very cool things to look at and hold. When I held one, it seemed if the crab legs were hyperactive ballpoint pens poking my hands again and again. It was no wonder I wanted to get in her class so damn bad.
Over the summer after my 2nd grade year, after I found that I got Mrs. Landis for my 3rd grade class; I ran outside, did cartwheels and promptly broke my pinkie. It was if I just got a lifetime pass to pillage and loot candy stores to my hearts content. However, I quickly learned that her class was not all fun and games. Mrs. Landis had had cancer, and was in remission for the time being. She never directly acknowledged that fact, but would sometimes let us know she was sick and couldn’t come one day or the other. Sometimes she would tell us that she was getting a different wig and wanted to know our opinion on what we thought was the best looking one for her. I remember how cold she was, cold even to the touch when she hugged me. Even though she never said so, everyone in my class knew that she was very sick, perhaps mortally so. Mrs. Landis was able to acknowledge that fact without scaring us witless. In other areas, her emotional intelligence was also on the level of Einstein, which was good for all of us. Many of the kids, myself included, were, quite frankly, spoiled by our parents and undisciplined as a result of them not knowing how to deal with our hearing losses.. Some parents even did homework for their kids! Mrs. Landis would always have a masterful way to deal with these problems; never directly insulting the kid or parents as many teachers would, but doing it in a way so subtle but unmistakable that true learning would result. I always managed to be egregiously late for just about every appointment in those days. She found a way to provoke me to change through, literally, song and music.
Every year, the entire student body participates in a school spring musical that is about as large and complex as the Apollo space program combined with the Hoover Dam with a side serving of the Manhattan Project, which also happens to be planned, choreographed and directed by Mrs. Landis. That particular year, the musical she selected was Alice in Wonderland, and she pulled me to the side and asked me to sing the song of the rabbit, who is constantly late. When I went, “why me?” she just hit me on the head with a copy of our class-produced newspaper and we had a good laugh. In the musical I sang, “I’m late, I’m late” which was a hilarious song. I was not embarrassed or humiliated in any way, but I can say I was never late for my appointments after that.
After third grade, I stayed on in her choir for two more years before I started middle school; once one got in her choir, it was too fun to leave. The most prominent memory is all the food. The choir traveled to country clubs around Ohio, sang for the august Cleveland City Club, and performed at many other society events. Before our concerts, we would get to eat like little sultans and princesses; we devoured caviar, salmon, roast beef, mangos, artichokes, eye of the squid, pig tongue, frog legs and so many myriad exotic entrees, enough that an emperor would blush on seeing them. I particularly remember the dinner at the Cleveland City Club, which was roast beef and mashed potatoes. The potatoes had been put into a mold and were in the shape of a orange squeezer, the potatoes were tanned and had a crust to it, so when I saw it for the first time I did not recognize it. When I first bit into the potatoes, the richness of the potatoes was so that it was if a cavalcade of butter had opened in my mouth. I might sell my soul to eat mashed potatoes like that again. In 4th and 5th grade, I got to skip a class every day to go to choir practice; on Fridays, I got to skip class for choir practice and eat doughnuts afterwards. For an elementary school student, it was the same as reaching rock-god status.
Once third grade was past, I was placed into the mainstream program by Mrs. Landis. Millridge Center for the Hearing Impaired was a wing of the larger Millridge Elementary, a conventional elementary school. Up until 4th grade, all my classmates had hearing problems of some sort, but now I was going into classrooms where all my peers would be hearing, and generally take class normally like anyone else would (except for resource teachers). To say it was difficult is something of an understatement, and I struggled academically in those years. When I was in that extremely stressful situation, most of my teachers literally gave up on me and told that to my face. But nothing quite uplifts like the words “I can cross the widest sea, I can climb the highest mountain, I am a promise with a capital P!” Choir practice became like the sun after a very long night. Furthermore, all she wanted from me was that I succeed, not anything else, and I did owe her that much.
Years later, after I left the choir, she came to sing for my church’s Lady’s Club. It was clear that the cancer had come out of remission as she was a shade of green and since she did not wear her wig that day, one could see her baldness. When she was directing the choir, she leaned heavily on a podium with one hand and directed with the other as for some reason she could not play the piano, as that was her normal routine. Even this limited effort seemed to tax her severely and many times Mrs. Landis had to take a breather for a few minutes. Even that sad state of affairs did nothing to contain my joy when Mrs. Landis saw me in the crowd, and asked me to join them for a couple songs. I excitedly ran up to the stage, leapt the 4 foot difference from the floor to the stage and sang with her choir for one last time.
The first time I saw Mrs. Landis I wanted to get in her class as everyone who got her seemed to be spoiled rotten. After I got into her class, I found that even though she did live up to most of my expectations, she was very ill. Despite being so sick, she was able to teach important life lessons, particularly about arriving on time for one’s appointments. Through the choir, she showed us a bit of the world and exposed us to cosmopolitan tastes. After my time with her class was up, she kept me in the choir and offered emotional encouragement to succeed in school. Then, in high school, many years after I left the choir, Mrs. Landis asked me to sing with them for one last time.
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All your bass are belong to us.
28 Aug 2005, 12:36 am
I am one of those people that remembers what they learn in school and minute weird details with great ease but forgets most other things.
