


Many have an unbreakable connection with our former teachers, whose lessons never escape our lives



Dennis Norman didn’t bring any props or visual aids. He didn’t have a Power Point presentation with photos or graphics.
He didn’t have any handout materials to share with this class of restless eighth-grade students on their last day — in fact, their last class hour — before spring break.
All he brought were his memories and his imagination. And a pocket full of stories.
“They’ll have to be enough,” said Norman, a 78-year-old former teacher at Willowcreek Middle School in Portage.
Norman began his teaching career at the school in 1962, the year I was born. He returned to the school last week to share teaching duties with one of his former students, Matthew Atherton, who’s a teacher at the school.
“I have known Mr. Norman for 25 years, and I’ve been through a lot with him,” Atherton told me. “He had a tremendous influence on my life. He made me want to become a reader. He made me want to become a teacher.”
Not surprising, Atherton teaches reading at Willowcreek, where “Jungle Hall” still connects two parts of the school, same as it did when Norman taught students there.
“It’s like coming back home,” said Norman, whose teaching career spanned 35 years in the Portage Township Schools system.
He also taught at Portage High School, where Atherton was a student in his English class. And later, as Norman’s teaching assistant. His mentor was also the school’s honor society sponsor, a role that Atherton now has at Willowcreek.
“Again, because of Mr. Norman’s influence on me as a young man,” Atherton said. “He was the real-life embodiment of every corny and cliche teacher caricature displayed in feel-good Hollywood movies.”
“He was selfless. He was caring. He was passionate. He was all-in for his students all of the time,” Atherton said.
Norman seemed just as caring, selfless and passionate in front of Atherton’s students.
Without once raising his voice to get their attention, Norman casually recalled stories from his childhood, his teaching career and his travels around the world.
“I’ve been to 170 countries,” he told students.
“Which one was your favorite?” a student said.
“Egypt,” Norman replied. “It always felt like home.”
He floored them with news that he recently attended his 60-year high school reunion.
Atherton, who listened to Norman’s stories from his desk in front of the classroom, figured out the math for his students.
“You’ll be having your 60-year high school reunion in 2081,” he said.
“No way!” one boy said from the back of the classroom.
Norman chuckled to himself. He gave them the same advice he gave students in the 1960s, ’70s, ’80s and ’90s. Make personal connections with others. Take a new route to your locker, or to your future. Meet new people every day.
The students were antsy yet respectful. When one of them spoke out of turn, Norman stopped and stared. “I don’t want to interrupt you,” he told them. Silence restored.
Norman has been using such teaching methods for a half-century.
In a 1969 Post-Tribune story, Norman was publicly applauded for re-energizing the high school’s drama department. He challenged students by having them perform difficult musicals or complicated plays. Rehearsal time alone was more than 100 hours.
“Mr. Norman always went above and beyond for his students,” Atherton said.
When I posted photos on social media of Norman teaching Atherton’s class, several of Norman’s former students offered warm memories of him. The most common comment was “all-time favorite teacher.”
Norman told me those online comments brought back a lot of “special memories.”
“I wish more retired teachers could get that warm, fuzzy feeling again from their students,” he said.
Most of us remember a special teacher who profoundly influenced us at a young, impressionable age. For me, that teacher is Tony Sanchez, who taught social studies at Kennedy-King Junior High in Gary.
Sanchez told compelling stories, purposely waiting until the next school day to finish them. He was tough but kind, often in the same class.
Last week, I tracked him down to ask whether he would be a guest on my new podcast show, “Social Studies,” which is partly a play on words for what I do in this column and partly named in his honor.
Sanchez still teaches, these days as a college professor at the University of Toledo. His focus is middle school social studies methods. Not a surprise to any of his former students.
“I can still deliver the goods, but it’s getting tougher,” Sanchez wrote in an emailed reply. “The Kennedy-King years were the absolute best of my career. You were part of that. I had the most fun being a teacher in those years, and since at that time our children had not arrived, you all were my children.”
I shared his response with my readers on social media. Dozens of his former students from Kennedy-King offered warm, glowing memories of him. Again, the most common comment was “all-time favorite teacher.”
I shared their comments with him.
“They made me cry,” he replied.
This is the kind of unbreakable connection many of us have with our former teachers. They don’t leave our minds. Their lessons don’t escape our lives. They care, and we never forgot.
“Mr. Norman was always open, friendly and encouraging,” Atherton said. “If he ever had a bad day, nobody knew it.”
“He had students over to his house. He met students for coffee. He would talk about books, poetry and life,” Atherton added. “He has given me so much, and he continues to have a positive impact on the community.”
Norman cared. His students remembered.
“Thanks for everything, Mr. Norman,” Atherton said.
The same can be said of my favorite teacher. Thanks for everything, Mr. Sanchez.
Someday, Atherton will likely hear the same thing from his former students.
Online
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