12th grade: Read each student's daily journal entry every evening, making annotations in the margins, applauding deft turns of phrase. First teacher to recognize multiple creative interests and a lack of laser-focus as a positive, not a deficit.
11th grade: Seemed perpetually preoccupied with or addled by something - Sleep deprivation? Over-medication? - and basically let the class run itself.
10th grade: Imparted little gems of wisdom on life, such as the fact that pearls should be worn against the skin, to improve luster. Also, that Hera sprang from Zeus' forehead. Later learned she was also a Juilliard-trained pianist.
9th grade: Only teacher - English or otherwise - I've ever seen misspell words written on the blackboard.
8th grade: Told class a story about a friend of her husband's, who had come over to their house for dinner. Said friend used a Sharpie to draw eyeballs on his hands and held them up over his own when asked a question and intoned, "Yeeeeeessss?"
7th grade: Gave extra credit for over-zealous Haiku production at the end of each marking period. (I spent four entire weekends that year thinking in 5-7-5.)
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