Published: October 18, 2000

Epitaph for an English Teacher

This article was originally published in Education Week .

He wasn't the most brilliant or stimulating teacher I ever had, just the most influential. His name was Harry Thompson. He taught me Advanced Placement English in 12th grade at John F. Kennedy High School—a class that, strictly speaking, I wasn't prepared for and shouldn't have been allowed to take. That was more than 30 years ago, but I still remember Mr. Thompson with a kind of awe.

Why? It isn't because he was physically impressive. He was a little pear- shaped man with a prematurely bald head that made him look a lot older than he was—only 37 at the time, if my math is correct. And it isn't because he was a flamboyant showman who entertained us with anecdotes and impersonations as he taught. His classroom style was actually rather drab. No, I remember him for the simple reason that he was sympathetic and encouraging to me when so many other teachers would have...