Thank you, Ms. Taylor

It's hard to believe only nine days are left of school with the finish line of June 10th looming near!

Recently, parents honored teachers at Greenbrook Elementary where I teach third grade, with a special "Teacher Appreciation Week."

Showered with flowers, lunch, and gift cards, I even walked down a makeshift red carpet, crowned with a tiara.  My students got a kick out of placing a sash around me that read, "Outstanding Teacher."

This red-carpet treatment made me think about when I was a student in Hayward public schools.  

I don't recall there being a designated week, or even a day, where I got to show teachers my appreciation for the work they did, for not only teaching, but helping to shape who I am today.

Ms. Dodd, my fourth and fifth grade teacher at Fairview Elementary, always found ways to encourage me to try harder—and talk less in class. Mrs. Ratty gave me a journal that I still have, at the end of sixth grade and told me to continue to write what was in my head and heart.

My junior high U.S. history teacher, Mr.Vollick made connections with us misfits in our awkward preteen glory, making us feel capable as we learned about the Constitution. Every week, he'd ask a student a question, such as "Who was buried in Grant's tomb?"  If the answer was wrong, we'd all be assigned homework. Inevitably, he'd choose someone he knew would be stumped and the "ughs" would fill the class like heavy rocks.

As a "teacher's pet" of sorts, I became friends with many high school teachers. Ms. Lycett, who taught history and social studies felt more like a favorite aunt. Mr. Kukus helped me unlock the mysteries of algebra. But there is one woman I wish to take my hat off to, as she impacted me in the years to come more than she would ever know— Ms. Judy Taylor—English literature teacher, fast talker and feminist.

While balancing "The Scarlet Letter" novel with one hand, she'd use the other to hit the pages as she practiced the Socratic method of questioning us students.

She reminded me of a caged lion pacing quickly, her stiff gray hairs sprouting wildly between her brown corkscrew curls, only pausing long enough to pull those intense brown eyes to a squint and ask the question for which she'd not wait long for a response.

"What relationships with women did Hawthorne have to influence his treatment of female characters in fiction?" she'd ask, to a group of about 30 confused teenagers.

Or she'd make a statement,  "Hester had to have been pretty strong as a woman to defy puritanical laws which denied independent thinking and sexuality."

Around me, no answer, just blank stares and rolling eyes.

Ms. Taylor fired me up even though I didn't want to be a feminist.  Or at least, I didn't think I wanted to be a feminist.

Soon after I started Ms. Taylor's class, my mom was subjected to rants and raves about the latest books I read in class. I could tell by the smile on her face that my new found energy pleased her. 

Mom bought me Ms. and Mother Jones magazines.

"There isn't anything you can't do, if you put your mind to it," mom said.

I remember when Matt Mondragon asked me to go steady in second grade, and I didn't know what to do so I asked mom.  She said, "you're supposed to pick who you want to be with, it's not the other way around, and besides, you have too much going on in your life to go steady with anyone!"

Looking back, mom was the ultimate feminist.

No wonder I related so well to Ms. Judy Taylor.

After junior year, English literature class was over and I would pass Ms. Taylor only briefly in the hall from time to time.

It was then that I made a conscious choice to be a feminist. Even if feminists seemed to be equated with man-haters.  I didn't care.

It didn't mean I no longer wore dresses and mascara.

What it did mean was to be strong, decisive, and make my own decisions about whom I wanted to be and where I wanted to go. I fought for equality whenever given the opportunity, taking my cues from Betty Friedan, Sojourner Truth, Margaret Sanger, Gloria Steinem, Ms. Judy Taylor, and of course, my mother.

I belonged to the Black Student Union, rallied with La Raza, and protested at the Diablo power plant during college in San Luis Obispo.  I also organized my college Earth Day celebration.

I am still very much an advocate for inclusion in the classroom, particularly for students with special needs, as a third grade teacher at Greenbrook.

I thank Ms. Judy Taylor and those strong teachers, women and men, who I am forever indebted to, those individuals that in my mind have the real "superpowers."

We may not wear capes and leap over tall buildings in a single bound, but we do make a difference, shaping the minds of the greatest resource we have to make the world a better place—our young people.