Teachers, by Phillip Hoyle

Teachers: I’ve had a lot of them. Some I recall for their names, others for their engaging communications, still others for the lack of impact they made on me. From grade school I recall Miss Weenes whom we second graders called Miss Weenie, although not in class, and Mrs. Schaffer who read “Treasure Island” to us, my first novel; there were others whose names escape me, but I do recall the woman who taught us cursive writing in fifth grade leaving me with a rather readable hand and the rather effeminate man who taught music in fourth and fifth grades introducing us to Bizet’s “Carmen.” From junior high I recall Mr. Moon who at the board always pointed with his middle finger and who told memorable stories about science, Miss Oliver who taught Latin not only to me but to my older sisters and to my mother, the effective algebra teacher who also taught my mom and started geraniums in the windows of her classroom, and Miss Costello who sent home a mustard plaster recipe when too many students got colds. From high school I remember Mr. Martin the choir director, Mr. Snodgrass the band director, Miss Perkins the Latin teacher and drama coach, and Mr. Unruh the football coach and government teacher. In college, I remember Dr. Van Buren, President Lown, Mr. Secrest, and Professor Jamie Morgan; in graduate school, Mrs. Kiesgen and Dr. Lee; in seminary Dr. Duke, Dr. Routt, Dr. Hoehn, and Dr. Rowell. But that’s only the beginning of the list. I also had music teachers in piano and voice studios, art teachers at the Oklahoma Art Workshops, leaders of numerous seminars and workshops at hotels and conference centers, and informal mentors whose revelations and advice paved the way for a rich life of learning, work, and enjoyment. Trying to list all my teachers indicates I learned many things from many different instructors over a long life. I owe a lot to these people.

Mother taught us kids to respect our teachers although she well knew they had feet of clay. She supported them through her tireless work in the PTA but also challenged them when their behavior overstepped their role of teacher and nurturer of young people. So when I heard harangues from the pulpit that some faithless people scandalously thought of Jesus as only a teacher, I felt unsettled. Mom taught us that being a teacher was one of the very best occupations anyone could pursue. Of course, those preachers were defending the orthodox doctrine of the divinity of Christ. I was not concerned with orthodoxy and thought if Jesus back then or as a spiritual presence could teach anyone, he could be my teacher as well and earn my deepest respect. Like Mom, I liked my teachers. Two, though, stand out as the most influential: the first for inspiration, the second for technique.

I knew Dr. James Van Buren by reputation long before I got to school and took his demanding class, “Survey of Biblical Literature.” After that there were other classes in biblical studies, philosophy, theology, sociology, and literature. Studying in a small college, I got to make a rather thorough study of this professor who was both the hardest one to get good grades from and the one who opened worlds of knowledge most widely. I can say confidently that Dr. Van taught me how to run successfully on the liberal edge of conservatism. By ‘successfully’ I mean not only getting beyond political hurdles but also doing so while maintaining theological self-respect and integrity. He taught me to read broadly, to think openly, and to communicate creatively. For instance, he lectured on Christian humanism, Christian hedonism, Christian stoicism, and Christian Epicureanism insisting that Christian thought was not a complete philosophy in itself but a base from which one examined and utilized perspectives of the ages. He taught humor as an essential ingredient in the most serious communications and sex as a broadly celebrative dynamic of life. In Dr. Van’s approach God as the creator and approver of creation served as the starting point and essential part of a healthy approach to life, morality, and ethics. He insisted that creative and playful thinking stands as a necessary component in one’s life and insisted religion should never become a wooden legal transaction or set of rigid laws. He taught an appreciation for beauty through arts, literature, science, and everyday interactions with fancy and plain people. Poetry, storytelling, drama, and lively insights transformed theology into a process for living. The arts pointed to dynamic creativity in the name of the Creator.

This overweight professor rested a little notebook on his stomach as if it were a lectern. This enthusiastic professor lectured from the book of Job on the dances of whales in the ocean, leaping about like one of them himself. This insightful professor opened the way to Shakespeare, Milton, and Whitman. This scholarly professor had been granted a DD and then earned a PhD in English Literature, his dissertation an examination of Old Testament Apocryphal references in John Milton’s poetry. This superlative teacher supported in me my love for books and libraries and my proclivity toward creative thinking in matters of education and religion. I continue to think about Dr. Van Buren’s advice, knowledge, and approach whenever I try to solve problems or speak from my own heart.

I knew Dr. Karen Bartman years before she was conferred a doctoral degree in piano pedagogy. She served as the church’s music coordinator and organist where I worked as associate minister and director of the Chancel Choir. We made music together for several years before I studied in her piano studio. I recall this teacher for both her pianistic and pedagogical techniques—carried out with consistency, musical depth, and always the encouragement to keep making beautiful music. I’ll never know if I could have learned piano technique at an earlier age, but I did learn it in my late thirties under her tutelage. When I approached my 40s crisis (a la Goldberg and Sheehe), I became “angry with the gods of literature” as my friend Gerald put it and went on a yearlong book fast. I joined Karen’s studio to learn to play piano, knowing I’d have about three hours a day to practice, time I would not be reading books. I remained a student in her studio for two and a half years. Since childhood I had played—my father said banged—the piano but always with great limitation. Gerald once said I was quite musical but had no technique. After two years of Karen’s discipline I played a piece for my dad. He declared, “She’s a miracle worker; you’re not pounding.” Even Gerald seemed impressed at her work and my response, and Dr. Bartman said what she appreciated about teaching me—an adult—was that I always played musically.

This physically fit teacher sat at the keyboard with perfect posture and insisted I do so as well. This enthusiastic teacher with beautifully strong hands didn’t just give me scales and arpeggios to strengthen my hands but showed me how to execute them in ways that engaged listening, phrasing, and trusting that my hands would know where they were on the keyboard. This insightful teacher showed me how to ground myself at any point in a phrase, a measure, or a beat giving life to the composition in performance. This scholarly teacher helped me know Bach, Mozart, Brahms, Schubert, Schumann, Chopin, Debussy, Mompou, Shostakovich, and Prokofiev in ways I had never grasped even after extensive graduate study in musical style analysis. This superlative teacher inspired me to practice with confidence that I could play effectively and beautifully. Eventually I quit piano instruction and returned to books and writing. Still, I continued to practice and put to use my grasp of her technique when I played. From her I learned the value of technical proficiency. Her consistent teaching encouraged me to continue to develop as an artist and to bring artistry to bear in all my work.

In summary, Dr. Van Buren taught me to love life and the arts, Dr. Bartman encouraged me to find consistent techniques for any creative work I undertook. My life as a learner continues inspired and enabled by these two great teachers. There have been plenty more teachers, loads of learning, and lots of creative outcomes that today I celebrate along with this litany of my teachers’ names.

© 1 Nov 2011 

About the Author 

Phillip Hoyle lives in Denver and spends his time writing, painting, and socializing. In general he keeps busy with groups of writers and artists. Following thirty-two years in church work and fifteen in a therapeutic massage practice, he now focuses on creating beauty. He volunteers at The Center leading the SAGE program “Telling Your Story.”

He also blogs at artandmorebyphilhoyle.blogspot.com