I know I’ve previously lamented the overuse of companies and organizations attempting to profit off of “National Such-And-Such Days.” Are some of those “holidays” even remotely beneficial? Do they actually raise awareness or appreciation for the things they claim to celebrate? More often than not, the answer’s going to be a firm “no.” Even for the industries who would supposedly benefit from an increase in sales on their product’s “day of fame.”

Of course, there are some exceptions.

Recently, on The Morning News, we discussed the 2022 Teacher of the Year- which got us thinking about the teachers that have made a profound impact on our lives. Adam credited his fifth-grade teacher, Ms. Hromiak, for inspiring him to go into broadcasting. She taught his class how to make Ukrainian Easter eggs and cast him in a school production of “The Taming Of The Shrew,” among what I’m sure were other pivotal moments in his education. As for that broadcast career? I’d say that’s going pretty well for him. If you agree, let him know here. I’m sure he’d appreciate it.

(Photo: courtesy of Adam Smith)

In that same segment, I struggled to pick a teacher. I didn’t even manage to name one. But I don’t want that to be taken out of context- there were simply too many people to name. Ever watch a winner at a major awards show try and name every single person who got them to where they are in 90 seconds or less? Well, I’ve got a long list of folks I’d like to thank, comprised of people whose actions- big or small- have shaped me into who I am now.

And seeing as it’s National Teachers’ Appreciation Day… what better way to dole out a round of well-deserved “thank you’s” than in this blog post?

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I don’t think there was too much that made me overtly nervous as a child. I’d describe younger Dianna as someone who was curious about the world, and didn’t really care if exploring meant taking risks.

But the start of fifth grade rolled around and the next thing I knew, everything made me paranoid. It made no sense. I became apprehensive to everything all of a sudden. My contributions to class discussions were minimized to a whimper, if anything. I began to dread lunch and recess because the loud environments caused me to panic. No one could figure out the sudden change in demeanor. Or, for that matter, how I should deal with it. A therapist suggested lavender lotion and a miniature waterfall fountain. My mom picked up some guided meditation CDs. While those products were nice and dandy, it made me feel even more outcast. I was embarrassed that these were issues I had to deal with on a daily basis.

My teacher, Mrs. Lux, saw firsthand how my anxiety would consume me on a daily basis. While she couldn’t offer a concrete solution, she did offer alternatives. About a month or two into the school year, she offered to let me stay in the classroom during recess so that I could have at least a few moments of calm before finishing up the day. At first, I was skeptical (of course). But the moment everyone else left the room and I could actually spend a moment collecting my own thoughts, it was like someone finally turned the lights on in a cave.

I didn’t have to constantly be on edge in this environment. I could get help with my homework, if I wanted. I could doodle on the board or draw comics, if I wanted. I could read the entire classroom library, if I wanted (by the end of the year, I definitely got at least halfway through). It was as if I had been given permission to breathe again.

I figured out how to regulate my anxiety beyond that year. But I look back on it fondly as a reminder that I’m allowed to take the time I need to recharge if things get too stressful. This is just one example of her exemplary teaching, but I wanted to highlight it because it allowed me to develop healthier coping mechanisms as an adult. Thank you, Mrs. Lux!

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Seventh grade was a special kind of hell for me. I won’t go into too much detail, but things were rough in school as well as at home. I felt trapped in a constant state of chaos. One of the places where I’d be able to find a brief reprieve was in Mrs. Sponheimer’s English class.

I don’t think there was ever a moment in that room where the lesson felt stagnant, or a topic that didn’t pique my interest in some way. I remember she kicked off the year with a creative writing assignment where we could write whatever we wanted, but it needed to include five specific words. I went home and had a crazy dream about the main character falling through a vortex to retrieve one of the words (I think it was a thermos). The assignment practically wrote itself. I got hooked on these creative writing assignments. But just like a healthy diet, you can’t survive on just the sweet stuff.

As preparation for our “big research project,” Mrs. Sponheimer printed out the lyrics to every single song from the movie Newsies (1992). It was her daughters’ favorite movie growing up, she told us. They listened to the soundtrack so many times that parts of it skipped when she played it for us in class. It made the actual research into the Newsboys’ Strike of 1899 way more interesting. On more than one occasion, I found myself humming along to “Seize The Day” as I was looking up sources and drafting the paper. By proxy, I think a lot of people who took the class also found a fondness for the movie-musical (which, to my delight, became an actual Broadway musical years later).

She also knew how and when to lift up the underdogs in the class. In a lesson on human speech and behavior, she asked any bilingual student to say something in their native language. One of the quiet kids busted out perfect French on the spot. I don’t think anyone saw that one coming, but suffice to say, she was impressed. For that Newsies project, one of our first deadlines was to submit a hand-drawn cover sheet. No surprise for us- we had similar art requirements in the past. But my efforts in the past were… not that great. I actually got docked points in some cases. So I knew for this research project, I had to go harder. The only way out of the chaos was forward.

I turned in my cover page the next day, hoping to just drop it off and be done with it. Nope. Mrs. Sponheimer told me to hold on a second. Did she notice that I copied an image from the internet? I technically hand-drew it: I printed it out, taped it to my window, and traced over it in colored pencil. I changed the colors and everything. Maybe my background wasn’t good enough? I didn’t know anything about scale or perspective. I just did my best.

None of that mattered. She stopped the whole class dead in their tracks and made everyone look at my cover page. She said it was the best that she had ever seen in her career. I didn’t know how to react. Normally, I would downplay it or depreciate myself to get the praise to just “go away.” But I had about 20 or so peers- some of whom really didn’t like me- staring at this paper that I had spent hours trying to perfect. I had to play it cool for this one.

I didn’t expect to learn humility in English that day. I also didn’t think I’d learn the lyrics to “The World Will Know,” every single preposition in the English language, or about the perspective of a counselor at a camp for adults with special needs. My worldview expanded drastically in the course of one academic year, with full credit to this class. The fact that a lot of the topics still stuck with me decades later should speak volumes about the passion Mrs. Sponheimer put into every single lesson. Thank you, Mrs. Sponheimer!

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INTERMISSION

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I’d like to take this moment to shout out an honorable mention.

I only had about 3 months with Mrs. Grappone as my social studies teacher before I moved out of state. However, one moment before class even started shaped my identity from that day forward.

You see, when most people look at my first name, they instinctively pronounce it “die-AN-ah” or “DEE-an-ah.” However, my mother named me “dee-YAH-nah,” which is the Ukrainian pronunciation. I never used to correct people on the pronunciation because I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. In fact, when some teachers met me at the beginning of the year, they’d ask which pronunciation was correct. I always told them it didn’t matter. But a funny thing happened: the more friends I had that eventually met my mom, the more often they called me “dee-YAH-nah.” Fascinating how that works.

Fast forward to that day in Mrs. Grappone’s class. She had apparently overheard, in the hallway, one of my friends address me by the correct pronunciation. She asked me if that was how I actually pronounce my name. I gave my usual “it doesn’t matter” response, silently panicking because no (American) teacher had ever said my name correctly.

I don’t remember the exact words she told me, but it was something to the effect of “…that’s your name though. That’s your whole identity. Don’t stoop down to what other people are comfortable with for the sake of your own identity.”

No one had put it to me that way before. I took that advice with gusto. As for my last name… we’ll work on that later. Thank you, Mrs. Grappone!

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Is anyone surprised that this list has a healthy amount of English teachers on here? No?

Ms. Schneller got to deal with me a whole bunch in high school. I had her for both 9th grade honors English and AP English as a senior, and she was also the advisor for National Honor Society. During my freshman orientation, I mentioned to some student leader that I had her for English. I kid you not- this orientation leader pulled me aside and went on a whole tangent about how wonderful Ms. Schneller was going to be. Was she strict? Definitely. Was I going to have to put in extra work for my grades? Absolutely. Was it all going to be worth it? 100%.

I’m not going to recount my first day of class with her because it’s still mortifying to this day. Let’s just say I was absolutely not prepared for what was coming. Freshman year turned out to be a major transition period in my life (more on this later). But between extensive research paper critiques and trying to find the symbolism in Da Chen’s Colors Of The Mountain, Ms. Schneller somehow found the time to introduce me to books I’d have never considered reading. I happened to have her for a study hall, where I first picked up 13 Reasons Why and Rohinton Mistry’s A Fine Balance, the latter of which I used for a research project.

Ms. Schneller actually gets some credit for pushing me into radio, funny enough. One of my favorite assignments I did freshman year was a monologue project. She scattered a variety of black and white photos around the room, and told all of us to pick one and write a monologue based on it. It would eventually need to be memorized and performed in front of the class. Mine was a picture of three kids playing in a yard. I remember writing and rewriting my monologue so many times. I had some paltry 2-page narrative about escaping a house fire, but it didn’t feel right.

On a whim, I scrapped everything that I had written about a week before it was due. I kept the theme of escapism, but this time my character was leaving an abusive household and trying to reconnect with her birth mother. Performing that monologue was the first time I ever felt comfortable speaking in front of my peers. Becoming a character came much more naturally than trying to read a speech or offer input on a topic.

I think Ms. Schneller remembered that monologue moment years later, when I had her for AP English. There was a lot more classic literature that we dove into for that class- Huckleberry Finn, Hamlet, The Color Purple, etc. Specifically, for Hamlet, we took turns reading out loud because- let’s face it- Shakespearian English is a tough piece of language to chew on. Eventually, I found myself reading most of Hamlet out loud. I don’t know how, but Ms. Schneller and my peers all agreed that the text was more digestible for them when I read out loud. That was cool and all, but I was still trying to figure out what the hell Polonius was talking about in the stanza that I had… just read… out loud. It was senior year. My brain was very tired.

The biggest quality I’ve taken with me from Ms. Schneller’s classroom is to never settle for mediocrity. If there was a higher bar I could set, I should set it. It’s easy to get into the habit of settling for a circumstance because it’s easy. But the results of putting in the tougher work are well worth the rewards. Thank you, Ms. Schneller!

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(Photo: Facebook)

I love a good concert. Not just a sold-out stadium tour or an intimate theater set, though. My love for music started in the choirs I was signed up for at a young age. Somehow, I stuck with it- all the way until I graduated college (!). I firmly believe I wouldn’t have stuck around in vocal ensembles if Dr. Wild wasn’t hired as my high school choir director.

So remember when I said freshman year became a major transition period in my life? Dr. Wild was a part of that. We tragically lost our original choir director to a motorcycle accident- three weeks into the school year. The school brought the director before her out of retirement to get us through the winter concert. There was a lot of uncertainty in the air. Rehearsals could get tense at times. None of us knew what direction our vocal department would head in come springtime.

Dr. Wild immediately set the tone for how she ran things. She saw a lot of potential in our members- both as an ensemble and as soloists. In New York State, there are 6 difficulty levels for graded solos, the highest of which qualifies students for the All-State convention. Most of us had been breezing through Level 4’s, at max, before she was hired. By the time I graduated, she had everyone at at least a Level 3 or 4. 5’s and 6’s became the norm.

Our repertoire also underwent a drastic makeover. Instead of trying to slug through a concert full of English, Latin, and maybe some other *fancy* language, Dr. Wild made sure there was plenty of representation. Offhand, I remember doing pieces in Hindi, Hebrew, Yoruba, Aboriginal Australian (Pallawah), Japanese, French, Italian, German, and at one point- spoken word (no singing, just rhythm and volume!).

Dr. Wild’s passion for spreading joy through music expanded beyond the rehearsal space. Two years of music theory classes gave me a deeper and more thorough understanding of what I sang. Those classes also ignited my love for music composition- so much so, I auditioned for collegiate-level programs and was dead set on making a career out of it (Spoiler alert: I was not accepted. Now I’m in radio. Life, uh… finds a way).

As I developed as a musician, I found that more people began taking me seriously. I became the go-to person for any music related questions. My confidence shot through the roof to levels I didn’t think were possible. Throughout my entire high school career, if I needed any advice, Dr. Wild was the first person I’d consult. She entrusted me with helping her run our ensembles’ operations. The only caveat was that I didn’t program any of our concerts… but to me, that was the fun of it! Not knowing what kind of knowledge I’d leave that rehearsal space with made the process of showing up way more enticing.

On my last day of high school, she took the time to present a few awards to students who weren’t able to make the music department’s annual banquet (I was there, but had to leave early). Last but not least, my name got called up. Instead of the certificates or medals that other students received, she ducked into her office and gave me… a toddler toy, brand new, in the box. I was beyond confused at first, but I knew this was an extension of the spirit she exuded- and there was probably a good explanation behind it. She knew I didn’t make it into any of the music programs I applied to. But she wanted to send me off to college with something that would inspire me to keep composing, keep performing, and keep creating. I still have it.

Years later, I was living in Atlanta when she sent over a Facebook message. She was in town, and was wondering if I’d like to catch dinner and a regional premiere of a choral piece. This was an opportunity I knew I couldn’t pass up. We caught up over gumbo, and made our way to a beautiful church for an unforgettable performance of Craig Hella Johnson’s “Considering Matthew Shepard.” No spoilers here, but there’s a very emotional part of this performance that brought me to tears. At that moment, I was about to embark on another transitional part of my life. My future was uncertain. I hadn’t been part of an ensemble in nearly a year. Hearing this ensemble, this performance of a tragedy set to music, reminded me why I’m still going forward.

I’ve powered through the constant chaos in the past. I know there’s beauty beyond it, and within it. Dr. Wild gave me the tools I needed to believe in myself, and to appreciate the world around me. Thank you, Dr. Wild!

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(Photo: Facebook)

So you’ve read through this entire post. Now what?

Go thank a teacher. Doesn’t have to be your favorite one. They might have slugged through the pandemic, or personal issues, and they put up with a lot on a daily basis. These people are shaping future minds. Don’t let the future go to waste.