Opinion: The best teacher I ever had

Education is a hot button topic in today's political landscape. I acknowledge there are serious issues with our public schools. In fact, my views on public education probably align more with Moms for Liberty than with the National Education Association. I graduated in 1979 from Northern University High School in Cedar Falls and, putting politics aside, I was fortunate to have several extraordinary teachers who helped shape me into the man I am today.

Ken Butzier, my speech coach, was instrumental in helping me develop the confidence to verbalize my thoughts and address large audiences, a skill I now often apply in my personal and professional life. Lynn Schwandt, my math teacher, sparked my interest in computers by introducing me to BASIC programming and granting me free access to the school's Apple IIe computer. Don Wiederanders, my geometry teacher, ignited my interest in mathematical proofs, an enthusiasm that led me to major in mathematics and computer science. Ferd Reichman, my humanities teacher, taught me to look at history to understand the world around me. Lastly, Marge Vargas, my yearbook adviser, enabled my exploration of photography, signing off on so many passes that I ended up spending more time in the darkroom than the staff.

Each one of these teachers has had a huge impact on my life but there was one teacher that stood out from the rest: my French teacher, Jim Becker.

I know from my own experience that even the most outstanding teachers cannot impact every student in the same way. However, Jim managed to do exactly what I needed. He subtly “raised the corner of the tent,” offering me a peek into the rich tapestry of the French language, culture, cuisine, history, art, and beyond. I wasn't the best student in my class and my written French still is atrocious. I didn't ace the National French exam. Despite all this, what he accomplished was turning me into a “francophile.”

I don't think I really appreciated how special my French class was until my junior year in high school. I had completed two years of French but because I was at a very small school my advanced algebra and French III classes were scheduled at the same time. I had to make a difficult choice, I wanted to major in engineering in college, so I had to take algebra, but I loved French. Because I was a good student in both, Jim and my math teacher made a deal. I could attend as much of either class as I wanted to for full credit if I took all the exams and got straight As in both! That Spring I got to go with some of my classmates on a trip to France, led by Jim, with students across Eastern Iowa.

The trip was intimidating, with some seniors having up to five years of French experience. However, in France, I discovered that despite having studied more French, many struggled with actual conversation and basic tasks such as purchasing Metro tickets or cashing Traveler's Checks (credit cards were not as common among young people then). I may have had less French knowledge, but my classmates and I were willing to try and use all the French we knew.

When I got to Paris, I already knew my way around. I knew the major boulevards and monuments and the way the Seine River snaked through the city. I spent a week with a family and had a chance to attend a French High School for a couple of days.

My senior year I was saving money for a car. I wanted a Pontiac Trans Am, the black one with the eagle on the hood like Burt Reynolds drove in 'Smokey and the Bandit.' Jim told me that there was an opening on the France trip, and it didn't take me long to set the dream of a muscle car aside and start packing for France! On these trips the rule was that students had to either go out with one of the leaders or in groups of no less than three students. My friend Lee was also on his second trip to France. Jim understood that we were responsible enough so he could look the other way and the three or more did not apply. We were even allowed to leave Paris alone and visit the families we had stayed with in the suburbs the previous year.

I took a few semesters of French in college, but my French story didn't end there. The summer before my sophomore year at UNI, I rode my bicycle solo from the Boston area to Quebec City. I was able to speak nothing but French as I rode through rural Québec. Since then, I have been to France six times, Wallonia (the French speaking part of Belgium) three times and French Canada more times than I can count.

I live on the southwest side of Cedar Rapids and there is a significant and growing population of French-speaking immigrants from West Africa and Haiti. I am constantly finding opportunities to speak French when I am out and about in the community. I even taught a French language Bible study class at my church last Fall. On behalf of my church, I am looking for ways to reach out to the French speaking immigrants in our neighborhood.

Undoubtedly, Jim's influence on my life has been significant and far-reaching, extending even to the next generation! Most of my children studied French in high school. One of my sons majored in French and one of my daughters spent a year in France as an au pair. Two of my other children have traveled to France. In fact, one of my children's middle name is Paris (I know TMI!) because she was born 'some months' after a trip my wife and I took to France.

When this column is published, my wife and I will be starting a two-week trip riding our bicycles in France. There are many things wrong with public education today and I will probably write about some of them here, but after three decades as a parent, volunteer, and occasional substitute teacher I know that there are still countless dedicated and skilled educators — like Jim Becker — who are making an impact in students' lives.

Merci Jim!

David Chung is a Gazette editorial fellow. david.chung@thegazette.com