My greatest regret in life is that I failed to tell my superb teachers how much they contributed to my early education.
Ruth Hammerman taught English to the eighth-graders. She was the first to show me the rules of what Evelyn Waugh called our "rich and delicate language." She was a no-nonsense instructor. Unlike common teachers, she diagramed (用图表展示) sentences so we could know the grammar rules. She never seemed to be tired of the simple pleasures of sharing her learning.
Under her influence, I had the strong belief that language needs to be well-spoken and properly written. Yet over the years I never made the effort to find her and to express my thankfulness for what she did for me. Two years after being in her class, I began the study of Latin and French, and the foundation (基础) she provided in English grammar served me well. Sadly, I never looked back.
In high school I took advanced French in a class taught by Richard Miller, the finest teacher I have ever experienced at any level. Mr. Miller brought to his subject a surprisingly deep understanding and new analysis (分析). Reading "Phèdre", Racine's classic play, he asked us to note there were 1,654 lines in it, and then pointed out the care Racine devoted to structure. Years later I made the same point — giving Mr. Miller credit — in a college French class, and my professor was surprised by my understanding of the play. Mr. Miller taught us to enjoy literature with particular points of view. Yet I never made the effort in later years to tell him what he meant to me.
Mr. Miller is certainly long dead. If she is alive, Miss Hammerman would likely be in her 90s. In preparing this article, I tried to find her but was unsuccessful.
I am certain my act is common. People often forget to express love and thankfulness to their teachers. I ought to have told Miss Hammerman and Mr. Miller how much they did for me. I suppose they knew their work was effective because they believed in what they were doing. Now I appreciate how special they were.
