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Other Articles on Education

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At the Right Hand of the Father
Some theologians act as though everyone needs to bow to their superior knowledge, and unfortunately, some people do give them the unreserved respect which they crave.

Being good is not good enough.

by Traute Klein, biogardener

My first inspector almost gave me a nervous breakdown. He was tough on me not because I was a bad teacher but because he wanted to motivate me to become a great teacher. Being tough was his way of motivating me to achieve my potential.

That Awesome Teaching Job

I was the first non-Canadian ever to be certified as a teacher in Manitoba. That was in 1955. The authorities did not know what to do with me, because the laws of the province demanded that all teachers be Canadian citizens. They trouble was that I had not been in this country long enough to become naturalized.

And how was I going to get a job? I was warned by all my professors that a personal interview would not be to my advantage. I looked much too young to be taken seriously. I would certainly be able to get a one-room school, because teachers were in short supply, and in those years, many one-room schools were taught by unlicensed high school graduates who had undergone one summer of basic training. I did not feel, however, that I could handle that task, and I was not going to attempt a job unless I was confident that I would be good at it. So I did not even bother looking for a job. It seemed useless. I simply waited.

Amazingly enough, I ended up with a grade three classroom in a Winnipeg suburb, and I did nothing to get that job. The director of the Teachers College personally recommended me when the school board asked him for a referral. The job was automatically mine, even before my interview.

Getting the Job

I had spent ten months absorbing all I could about Canadian elementary schools. I trusted what I had learned from my professors and was determined to translate their theories into practice. Some of those professors had shared with us from their own wealth of experience, and what I learned in their classes served me well. Miss Douglas' Music class and Miss McLeash's Art class inspired me to excell in my favorite teaching subjects. Mrs. Turner's Primary Methods classes had prepared me well for what to this day I consider the most important teaching subject, Reading. I made sure that all of my pupils became good and voracious readers.

How bad can a teacher be?

All right, I got the job. What happens now?

I knew how to present my lessons. I had learned that well, but there was one problem, and that was a biggy. I was not able to control the classroom. I tried to practice what I had learned in the Psychology class, and I don't remember the name of the professor, neither do I want to. What I had learned from her was totally useless. Maybe it would have worked for her, but it did not work for me. Here I was with classes of between 36 and 44 children, and how was I supposed to control their behavior? And in 1955, there was no support or resource staff at the school or at the divisional level who would help a struggling teacher.

That Feared Inspector Visit

And then came that first feared visit from the regional inspector. What was his function? If he was there to help me, I did not get that impression. He was certainly there to evaluate me, and I knew that he would send a report to the Manitoba Department of Education.

Michael Ewanchuk was of imposing stature and had a personality to match. I was terrified of him. He watched me teach, and after the children had gone home, he talked to me. I have no recollection of anything he said, neither do I remember what he wrote about me in his report, but when I got home that day, I was close to a nervous breakdown. I went to bed without supper and cried myself to sleep.

I knew one thing. Never again would I allow myself to suffer that kind of humiliation. No longer would I try to teach by methods which did not work for me. From now on, I would follow my heart and do what I considered right. I thought back of all the best teachers who had taught me. I knew which of their methods would work for me, and I put them into action.

I found it impossible to get that year back on track, but the following year, I was prepared, and my classrooms were as well managed as any teacher's in the school.

Return Visit

Oh, I was good! My classes functioned without any behavior problems. Even when I left the classroom, the children worked unsupervised and in silence. If I started them singing a round before leaving, they would still be singing it when I returned. No one would ever notice whether I was in the room or not. Mr. Ewanchuk would be happy with me. I was sure of it.

I was teaching a social studies lesson when he came to visit. I was doing exactly what the curriculum and the book recommended. I was effective. The class was responsive. Everyone behaved.

The Demonstration Lesson

Mr. Ewanchuk listened for a few minutes. Then he got up, came to the front of the classroom and took over. In total disregard of the book and the curriculum, he taught a lesson out of his head.

The children went home, and he talked to me again. I do not remember what he said this time either. One thing I do remember. He did not mention that I had overcome last year's chaos, that I had no more discipline problems, that the class was cooperative.

This time I did not cry, but I was upset. Never mind upset. I was angry. I was convinced that there was no way I would ever please the man.

Forget about the curriculum!

But I did learn the lesson which he tried to teach me.

I had been so anxious to do what was right in a strange country with a strange curriculum, that I had neglected to use my most important innate qualities, initiative and imagination. Watching the inspector using his own imagination to think up a lesson gave me the courage to imitate him, and from then on, the curriculum became a guide to outline general goals. Never again did I follow it like a slave. An individualized approach became the hallmark of my teaching. One of the greatest compliments which was ever paid to me came from one of Manitoba's most respected educators, Dr. Sybil Shack. She became my principal many years later. After watching me teach, she told me, "I know that you are not following the curriculum, and I don't care, because I know that you are getting results." She was right. I was teaching German to the junior highs in her school, and all of my pupils in that school spoke German to me in and out of the classroom. That is what language teaching is all about, getting learners to become fluent in the language. Never mind the curriculum! It was written for teachers who need day to day guidance.

Star Teacher

A few years after I started teaching school, my sister followed me into the profession. She is not a born teacher as I am. I had strongly advised her to choose a different path in life, but was unable to convince her. She also had Mr. Ewanchuk as her inspector, and from what I got to hear about his visits, he appeared to be pleased with her performance. He certainly did not pull her to pieces as he had done with me.

In spite of his good reports, she had so much trouble in the classroom that in the middle of December of one school year she simply quit and never returned to teaching children. And that was the teacher with whom the inspector was pleased?

Years later, I met the inspector again, but this time not in a school setting. He was Dr. Ewanchuk by this time. He introduced me to his friends as one of the best teachers he had ever inspected.

What? Say that again! So why were you so hard on me? Why did you never give me credit for improvement? And why did you praise my sister so highly?

His answer was simple:

"Your sister needed the praise. You did not. You were good, but for you, being good was not good enough. You were meant to be a great teacher, not a good one."

My Inspector, My Friend

Since his retirement, Dr. Ewanchuk has devoted all of his time to researching and documenting the history of Ukrainian settlements in Manitoba. He has become a respected author whose books can be found in all reputable bookstores. I see him at public gatherings frequently. Every time, he greets me like a long lost daughter. The man whom I feared has become my friend. He was more than an inspector to me. He motivated me to achieve my potential. I hope that I did not disappoint him.

Postscript

About a year ago, I ran into Dr. Ewanchuck at the annual gala dinner and lecture of St. John's College at the University of Manitoba. He embraced me warmly. I told him about this article which I was writing about our relationship. He apologized if he had treated me too harshly, saying, "I did the best I knew how. I treated you differently from other teachers, because you were smart."

Thank you, dear Mr. Ewanchuk. You saved me from a mediocre teaching career by showing me how to follow my God-given abilities.

On December 8, 2001, at the annual open house of the Manitoba Legislative Building, the first person I noticed was Dr. Ewanchuk. He held his arms open for a warm embrace. He was pleased. A friend in Alberta had printed out this article and mailed it to him.