Teaching as an Act of Love

Have you ever had a teacher who made an impact on you? An impact that extended far beyond the time you spent in class with them?

For me, that teacher was Mr. Yudin.

He was my 10th grade history teacher, a small balding man with a lovable temper. I remember times when he would become frustrated by noise coming from the classroom beside us and would bang on the wall to quiet them down (not sure it ever worked). It may not have been the greatest of teaching techniques, but his passion and care for students quickly endeared me to him.

(That’s my brother, Mr. Yudin, and I in the picture.)

During my first year of teaching high school myself, I was asked to tell the story of when I knew I wanted to be a teacher. Mr. Yudin’s face, from his smile that seemed to take over half his head to his loud and rambunctious tendency to go off on high-octane tangents, immediately popped into my mind.

I told the story of the day in history class when I found myself on the receiving end of a verbal assault from our resident fundamentalist Christian, Katie. We had been talking as a class about the Israeli occupation of Palestine, Mr. Yudin sitting calmly, which was strange for him, upon his wooden throne of a bar stool. In the midst of the discussion, Katie had decided to turn her wrath upon me, spitting “at least these people [Israelis and Palestinians] believe in something - you pretend to be a Christian!” Nevermind that I didn’t pretend to be a Christian (I happily referred to myself as an agnostic at the time) and nevermind her strange decision to center the conversation on my religiosity, I found myself stunned and put on the spot. And like many young people when the attention of an entire class turns to them, I had a tendency of freezing and shutting down; this moment was no different.

As I stuttered and searched internally for a way out that didn’t include me swearing back at her, deserved or not, Mr. Yudin stood up in the front and stared daggers into her soul. While I can’t remember exactly what he said, looking back on that experience after more than a decade, I remember that he was standing up for me. He shared that people’s spiritualities and religious beliefs could be different, even within the same religion, and that no-one should feel attacked for their unique spiritual beliefs. In other words, he ended her attack with kindness and precise reasoning, defending a student of his who clearly wasn’t ready to defend himself.

As I processed that experience in the days following, I realized more and more that I wanted to be a teacher that likewise stood up for my students, honoring their stories and experiences, and letting them be exactly who they are. Mr. Yudin, for all his eccentricities that I’m sure would have been frowned upon if not for his impending retirement, connected with me by showing an amount of passion and compassion my teenage self was yearning for.

For the second year, I am again organizing people to send personalized, handwritten “thank you” letters and small prepaid coffee cards to teachers and school staff here in the Tacoma area. This is one small way of honoring and thanking our teachers, who are working so hard in this difficult pandemic school year.

This year, we’re sending these letters of gratitude to the teachers and staff at Foss High School, one of Tacoma’s comprehensive high schools and the school home of just over 600 students and roughly 55 staff (teachers, office staff, administrators, para educators, etc.).

If you’re interested in joining me in this, whether you live in Tacoma or not, please check out the “How it Works” button below and sign up!