A Final Toast

This has been an amazing year for me. History started out not so well, but this second semester has been incredible. As I look back, feeling more than a touch nostalgic, I realize I learned far more than I thought I did. And what I learned wasn’t just facts, like so often I feel history is. History has never been the most engaging class for me, because my experience of it up to date has been a class made mostly of memorizing dates and facts, with the occasional exercise that involves thinking and making connections. But this semester forced me to rethink my impression of history.
I have been forced to think in new ways, to make connections and see patterns hidden in the layers of facts. I learned how to write both analytically and from the heart, so that I care about what I’m saying enough to put true thought behind it. This is probably the first year I have consistently found history to be an engaging, challenging, and most importantly, interesting. So many classes over the years, and so few I remember. It is never the material that defines a class, it is always the teacher. And when you look back you realize that it is the teachers who make you want to learn a subject, who plant seeds and ideas in your mind, who make you redefine just a little part of how you view the world; those are the ones you remember. I have been blessed with a few teachers like that.
My fourth grade Jewish studies teacher Alona who taught us history from archeologist’s points of view, while showing us how to make olive oil for lamps and how archeologists piece together the pieces of a broken pot. My 8th grade science teacher, Mike, who showed that science was in the real world and not in textbooks. Last year’s English teacher, Bourbon, who opened my eyes to a whole new level of thinking, and for whom I will never be able to view a movie the same way again.

Now there is one another name to add to the list.

Here’s to you, Mama Pugs. You made this year count.