Con’s cryptic statement alluding to the possibility of a negative experience in Taxpayer’s early schooling prompted me to re-post this article which was first published on March 26, 2008.

A comment left today under “Outrage” struck a nerve with me. The comment described a teacher in the elementary school who is “emotionally cruel” to young students. The comment went on to say that other teachers who are aware of the abuses by this teacher have taken some action to bring this to the attention of the administration. But I have no other knowledge of this other than an understanding of the impact of such behavior, if it indeed exists.

There is only one teacher in my experience that fits the description of “emotionally cruel.” I have had many fine and supportive teachers and mentors from day-one in elementary school through college and graduate school during my 23 year-stint in formal education. These teachers have given me wonderful gifts. Yet this one teacher, my 2nd grade teacher Mrs. Golding, stands out in my memory for the negative impact she had on my life – manifest mainly in my attitude and confidence as a student. The last time that the attitude surfaced was in my senior year in college. I was attending Psychology 101 in early October because I was required to take a ‘Biology’ course to graduate. I was repelled by the treatment of another student in the class by this aberrant professor. I was so bothered by this ‘psycho’ that I did not return to the class until I received a mid-term F in March in the final months of my senior year. I then became brutally aware that, if I did not pass Psychology, I would not graduate from college; nor would I be able to accept the full fellowship to graduate school that I had been offered. During later reflection on this situation, l recognized that my behavior was linked to a deep-seated hatred for that rare teacher that practiced “emotional cruelty” with students – the male professor was the resurrection of my 1st grade teacher Mrs. Golding. The class was a large class of over 100 students. In spite of the skeptical chiding of fraternity brothers, I took the only remaining opportunity I had to pass the course by aceing the final with the second highest score in the class. For years after this, I had a reoccurring nightmare that I had failed the course and had not graduated.

I don’t remember the details of the treatment I received from Mrs. Golding. I remember only that I was continuously picked on by this teacher. One physical piece of evidence is preserved in my 2nd grade report card (this is why we have mothers) which shows that I was absent for more than a quarter of the school year. I was terrorized and would not go to school and my mother protected me by allowing me to stay home.

I had assumed that I was the only victim of this terror. However, a few years ago we were visited by my early childhood friend, Judy, whom I hadn’t seen for forty years. While we were reacquainting ourselves, Judy asked if I remembered Mrs. Golding. Judy was a year older, but we were together in Mrs. Golding’s which was a class of 2rd and 3rd grades held together. She described receiving the same brutal treatment that I had received in that class. This was made even more poignant because both Judy and I had had polio together. I vividly remember playing with her in the front yard one summer night at the ages of 4 and 5, respectively (I can date this by where we were living). About a week later Judy came down with paralytic polio and nearly died. I had a flu-like disease but suffered no paralytic consequences. [Years later I took a position with the FDA division that regulated vaccines. Since I was going to work with poliovirus, I was tested for immunity and discovered that I had an extreme antibody titre characteristic only of someone who had been infected with the natural poliovirus.] … Back to Mrs. Golding’s class, imagine poor Judy in leg braces struggling with crutches to the chair in the corner of the classroom where ‘bad’ kids were sent.

Another symptom of the situation in 2nd grade was my inability to comprehend math, namely addition and subtraction. I vividly recall the week that Mrs. Golding was out sick. The substitute took me aside and gently explained how addition and subtraction worked, and within a few minutes the mental block was gone. The paralytic shame I felt as a six-year old had blocked my ability to think logically. I carried the scars of my 1st grade experience with me throughout my academic life compounded by the fact that I was severely dyslexic and could not read aloud. Even today I read below 200 words per minute.

There is a good ending to all of this. In college I started to use my right brain faculties more and more. I was especially good at calculus (don’t ask me to tell that disturbing story) despite my inability to add and subtract in 2nd grade. By graduate school, I could envision and conceptualize the macromolecules I was working with like DNA, RNA polymerase, and messenger RNA working together to produce a protein. Things fell into place and several years into Johns Hopkins, I knew exactly what I was going to do. At that point I never looked back and forgot about Mrs. Golding until Judy brought her up again.

There’s no question in my mind that teachers and mentors play a powerful, seminal role in our lives that is perhaps even more important than our parents (outside of the genetics that they pass on to us). But one bad seed can do a lot of damage to a lot of impressionable kids.

Here’s another article that mentions Mrs. Golding and comments that confirm.

John