Mrs. Dellenbaum

Blog #14

        She was the worst teacher I ever had. She was the best teacher I ever had. This is a true “Tale of Two Teachers” all rolled into one. 

        Mrs. Dellenbaum, my sixth grade teacher, had everyone read their creative stories to the class and would announce to everyone what the grade was.  It was definitely embarrassing to those who did not do well.  One day, Marla read her “F” paper to the class and we learned what a poor paper was like. Then to our surprise, the following day, Mrs. Dellenbaum made a grand apology to Marla and elevated the “F” to a “C”. She said that she realized it was not fair to give Marla an “F”, when that was all she was capable of.  I now wonder if Marla lived up to the teacher’s low expectation.  Most students would rather be thought to be lazy than stupid. I never forgot that example of what not to do, when I became a teacher.

       She loved IQ scores and labels.  When the scores came out in December, we had a not so private conference with the teacher about what we were expected to do in junior high, in high school and in life.  We could hear what was said about everyone in the class. How embarrassing!  It appeared that your future was sealed by the IQ pronouncement!  I was fortunate, because my IQ score went up 20 points since the last time I was tested and moved me into the rank of an “able learner”.  But I wasn’t able enough!

       When the end of the year came, I was moving across town to a new school, where none of my friends that I had had since kindergarten would be. At the same time, Karen, a brilliant student, was moving to the east coast.  I loved Mrs. Dellenbaum and told her I wanted to write to her every day (for the rest of my life).  I asked her if she would write back.  She said that she was only going to write to one person from our class that year and that would be Karen, because Karen was going to go somewhere in life and would be somebody really special.  After all, Karen had a genius IQ!

       Mrs. Dellenbaum was a super hero of a teacher. I was pretty sure she could fly. This very short, stout, sixty-five year old widow with olive skin and a tight, black-haired bun on top of her head was a powerful storyteller. She made even the most mundane things interesting.  We did more art projects that year than I had done in all my other elementary years combined.  We made batik, paper mache, clay projects and more. We decorated our room with our many creative masterpieces. Drama and French were part of what we did on a daily basis. Responsibility, teamwork and leadership were learned through community projects of all types. 

       We graded each other’s work and pushed ourselves to greater heights academically. She compelled us to excel and we, as a whole, responded. There was a lot of writing, a lot of speaking and  a lot of reading in her class. Learning was really fun!

       One day, after I had read a story I had written to the class and elaborated on my ideas, Mrs. Dellenbaum said, “I think you will be a good teacher one day, because you explain things so well.”  (She must not have thought that being a good teacher was “going somewhere in life.”)

        When I moved away, I longed to see her and missed her. I wondered if she ever thought about me.  I really had an ache in my heart for her. I really did not comprehend her faults or weaknesses until much later.  I thought Mrs. Dellenbaum was the world’s greatest teacher when I was eleven in the sixth grade and the thrill of learning and my own exciting future was unfolding before me.