Mr. Taggart
Among the many excellent teachers that I had throughout my education, Michael Taggart is on the varsity team. Starting with 7th grade history, Mr. Taggart taught a variety of classes and also coached our softball team for several seasons. In addition, in the context of President John F. Kennedy’s national fitness program, he was assigned oversight of the 7th -9th grade daily girls’ calisthenics.
Calisthenics occurred every day during morning break – that sacred time when students were served milk and graham crackers and had probably twenty minutes to socialize. Same for teachers. No fool he, Mr. Taggart recognized that taking attendance and directing calisthenics would take twice as long as he wanted to give up for himself or for us. Accordingly, he assigned me to take attendance. He knew me to be a conscientious student and a very involved athlete. He picked me because of those factors and because I was “svelte.” I looked it up. It meant slender – though now I read that it also suggests elegance, something I was decidedly not at thirteen. I took daily attendance and forged Mr. T’s initials, with his instruction and permission.
I suppose such an arrangement would not be possible now. First, to suggest anything at all about a girl’s physique would be considered harassment. It wasn’t at that point; Mr. Taggart was merely recognizing that I got plenty of exercise ever day. Second, teaching a youngster to forge your signature is not generally advisable. He knew me well, however, which is really the point. I wouldn’t dream of abusing the privilege.
Mr. Taggart was the teacher who, in 9th grade, had to tell us that President Kennedy had been shot and killed. Many years later, I recalled that class. He said it was among the most difficult of his entire career. He was deeply aware of the responsibility of finding the right words. Such a weight never occurred to us students at the time. What was critical was that someone whom we trusted spoke to us honestly and respectfully. Things that happen in the greater world are inextricably intertwined with what students remember about their teachers and their education. It’s okay to be at a loss for words. It’s not okay to share political opinions.
Final Mr. Taggart story. At a time when many schools did not have girls’ sports teams, when Title IX was not yet on the horizon, Mr. Taggart insisted that we young women had opportunities equal to our male classmates’. He expected us to practice, play hard, support each other, and demonstrate good sportsmanship. I suspect we won more than we lost, but I don’t really remember. He gave us life skills.
Interestingly, while my best friend at the time liked Mr. Townsend, I was surprised to hear, many years later, that he wasn’t a particular favorite of hers. Reminder that each of our students looks for and responds to different qualities in us.
Glass Full 