The Art of Being a Teacher

Mr. Paritchokee was one of the teachers children adored. They listened to him; they relied on him. He was their friend and listener outside the classroom, and their teacher and model inside. He was good, through and through. Students came to him for advice and when hard times would roll in, he’d say, “Just do your best and God will do the rest.” What the students didn’t know was that Mr. Paritchokee was diagnosed with Cancer on the same year his wife died on a car accident. He was a vibrant sort of man and a very caring father. His children, all now are working, knew that teaching was his only way to heal and start anew.

He gave everything he had to his students. He taught them not just what was printed on the pages of the textbooks, but also on the written leafs of life. There was one time when he was teaching the class how to write letters and he instructed them to write letters to the one person they wanted to thank. At the end of the day all the letters were sent to Mr. Paritchokee’s mailbox, except for little Johnny’s. Johnny sent his to me and an excerpt from his letter is,

Mr. Paritchokee is my teacher but I would rather call him my hero. He taught me how to say ‘Thank you’ and to thank the Good Lord for each day we live and each person we meet. He is and always will be my teacher and my best friend. Thank you, Dad, for letting Grandpa be my teacher.

The letter was good enough to make me teary. It was, and for a child the age of 8, a masterpiece, and the master was just as great. It made me see that being a teacher was more than teaching in the four walls of a classroom. It was breaking those walls and showing a child a world that he could call his own. So here I am, John Paritchokee, Jr., teaching 8 year-olds how to write letters and showing them a world that is beautiful despite its faults. My father knew children, and I hope that I will, too. I am a teacher now and I know I always will be.