I don’t generally celebrate (American) Thanksgiving. My Thanksgiving is more in line of how and when the Pilgrims created the holiday. That was a version of Sukot, the harvest festival. More akin to Canadian Thanksgiving, which coincides with my holiday. (Think about it. What harvest would you reap in late November?)
But, I do generally give thanks- each and every day. That’s part of my daily prayer rituals.
But, in light of American Thanksgiving, I will share with you those mentors who made a difference in my life. Those who shared their wisdom, their time, and their love to help me become who I am. Not by making me a square box to fit a square hole. By helping me find the best (or at least pretty darned good) way to make my own way.
My first mentor was my mom’s father, Sol Kuchlik. Sol left the town of Minsk (part of the Pale of Settlement) at a very early age and made his way to the “goldene medina”- the United States. My grandfather was a self-taught guy. One who served his country in ways most of us never dream. The picture below should give you an idea. That’s former President Teddy Roosevelt and General (of the Armies) Jack Pershing.
My grandfather was the one who nurtured my love of learning. Or, maybe even made it be. Because from the time I can remember (that’s pretty close to age 2), he grilled me on arithmetic. And, not just how much is 2+2. Because he wanted the answer as fast as he dished out the questions. Instantly. And, the math got far more complex. As it turns out my grandfather didn’t always know the answers to the questions he threw at me. But, he knew me well enough to know if I were guessing or unsure. And, then, he’d be on me like white on rice. (Oh, and that was an expression he taught me, too.)
My grandfather also had a wonderful car, a full-sized Nash Rambler. Which he used to drive me to museums, to Coney Island, to the Canarsie Pier, all the while peppering me with math questions and information about the sights. (Including the now defunct Floyd Bennett Field on the border of Brooklyn and the Rockaways.)
He never doubted I would make that artificial kidney. But, his Parkinson’s disease made it impossible for him to continue our talks, despite his L-Dopa, despite having his brain frozen by Dr. Irving Cooper (St. Barnabus). While I was exploding outward, his thoughts were locked inward. Forever.
He’s why I have a living will.
Right about the time my grandfather was leaving this world, I met my next mentor. I got to meet (by reputation) one of the scariest teachers of my school. I had just about finished my 6th grade year with Ms. Kessler. One of the teachers who tried to push me just a little harder. Ms. Kessler got me to write my first poem. (I had written an essay, but she showed me that the piece was written in perfect iambic pentameter.) And, I also produced a term paper about the USSR (83 pages written in very tiny letters) for her…And, now I was “requested” to appear in Miss Katzman’s office after lunch.
Miss Katzman (whose real name is Sue Finkelstein; Katzman was her nom de plume at school) informed me that she was to be my teacher for English and Social Studies (both) for the next three years. And, that my habit of doing (not) enough to get by was over. It was clear to everyone that I could perform and she would hear no excuses to the contrary.
She wanted to know what I expected from this yeshiva. When I told her, she didn’t laugh. She just said I had a far cry to go to attain that. She was positive that I would earn that honor with more effort on my part. My response was that this system was rigged and it would never happen. She promised it would.
So, I worked hard and she kept me busy for the next 3 years. (That was among the biggest of problems at school… I was bored.) I wrote many papers, including a thesis on the (then) only father and son in the White House. I learned a lot- in her classes and every other one I attended.
It’s where my system of taking notes in a lecture developed- simply writing down the first (non-article) word and a key word in every sentence. And, then going home to rewrite my notes (with two fountain pens; one with red ink, the other contained black ink) every night. (Until I obtained my typewriter, which replaced my pens- as did my computer years later.)
Ms. Katzman and I had many discussions. About colleges. About my research (which included by then my hydroponic science fair submission and other ‘crazy’ concepts), my idea about going to college (early, since I planned to spend many years in post-graduate education), my volunteering to help register folks to vote and for other (then radical) activities.
Right before graduation, Ms. Katzman regaled me with a present. An I.D. bracelet. To remember her in the future. (OK. I am dating myself. These were the tokens presented to members of the opposite sex as a demonstration of the bond that endures. At least that was the way it worked for yeshiva “bochurs”.)
Her interest, her coaching, her helping me work out my goals clearly set me on the proper educational path for my life. And, for that I think of Ms. Katzman often.
Because Ms. Katzman didn’t just teach me academics. She nurtured my concept to fight for those who get overlooked in spite of their actions, their abilities, and their rights. Because she did it for me- and I know what it feels like to have something yanked away that you deserve.
Tomorrow, I’ll cover a few more mentors.
Thanks to them all.
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How I enjoyed reading about your grandfather! My grandfather lived with us when I was growing up and he was a big part of my life. Your teacher sounds wonderful and I can see why she was such a great mentor to you. Can’t wait to read Part 2!
Martha recently posted..The Heart Does Not Discriminate
Thanks for the visit and comment, Martha!
Yes, my grandfather was very special to me- as well Ms. Katzman. Who knows what would have been without them!
It’s wonderful you had people like that in your life. I had supportive adults in my life, especially in my family, but their influence was more subtle. They provided experiences and books for me I would not have had otherwise and encouraged me to read voraciously, which I did.
Barbara Radisavljevic recently posted..A November Sunset at Doce Robles Vineyard.
That’s super, Barb.
We need to take stock of the gifts others provided us- which we often overlook.
And, then proffer our gifts to the next generation.
What wonderful mentors you had! Your depiction of them is very touching. They sound a bit scary but caring, determined to get the best out of you. It looks like they succeeded.
I think, given who I was (or not yet was), a little bit of scariness might have been in order, Alice.
Teachers who challenged and had faith in the student – just what you needed. You grew up in a time when teachers weren’t yet teaching to the test and had the ability to engage the student in a way that he or she needed. That isn’t true anymore, from what I hear from co workers with grandchildren. I suspect many highly intelligent young people in school drift into boredom, which results in behavioral issues, and creates a vicious circle.
Alana recently posted..Charlotte Russe #FlavoursomeTuesdays
To be honest, it’s not such a new phenomenon. When my son was very young, I could tell (easily) that future. So, I yanked him out of the school (which, admittedly, was one of the best in the district) to put him somewhere he would be pushed. And, when I let him return to the district, my marching orders to the principal were simple. If you don’t lean on him, make him work hard every day, don’t even think about calling me up to complain that he’s a pain in the class. He (well out of college by now) has turned out more than just fine.