I started to school as a 5-year-old in the first grade.  Kindergarten didn't even exist.  My classroom had a pot-bellied stove, no running water, two rows of first grade,  two rows of second grade and two rows of third grade.  Copying machines had not been invented.  But there was something magical in that classroom -- a teacher named Josie Campbell.  With a sparkle in her eye and a paddle on her desk, she set about to educate us.

     She would start each morning singing "Good Morning to You."  She was not a good singer, but we loved it anyway.  Next, we recited Bible verses if we had memorized one.  She blithely moved on to start each grade's lessons.  Working independently was a must because we could not interrupt her once she moved to another grade level.  We learned to listen the first time directions were given.  Of course our parents had taught us that lesson before we ever reached school.  I don't remember having anyone in my classroom who couldn't sit still or entertain themselves for a little while until it was time for the teacher to check back with our grade level.

     It wasn't until I studied education in college that I learned that we were actually  'the poverty stricken children from Appalachia.' How did we learn in such environment?  We did learn, and most of us became responsible people with demanding jobs.  I believe we did because our parents expected us to learn and Josie Campbell wanted us to learn. 

     "Everything can be taken away except the teacher.  A caring and competent teacher is the one essential thing in any classroom.  This past summer I watched on TV as children in Afghanistan started back to school -- no desks, no books, no paper or pencils.  Just a teacher in front of the classroom teaching children pack tightly together.  They had that one essential ingredient, and so they had school.

     How much is a caring and competent teacher worth?  More than he or she could ever be paid.