People Don’t Wear Their History

By Donna Brandeis LaGanga

We don’t know who we are talking with. . .people don’t wear their history. I am a teacher because I know what it is like to be told that I am a slow learner, an underachiever—and that was on a good day. On other days, I was told I was just stupid. So many years later, I have never lost the feeling, the image, the memory, the pain—the moments in time when I was told this; how it felt when other children looked at me and laughed at me; and the impact this makes on an impressionable learner. And now as a teacher, I know the importance of ensuring that all learners are entitled to a teacher who cares, who treats them with human dignity, and who wants to safeguard their equal opportunity to learn on the many different platforms, and with the multiple mediums, that are available to them.

As the years went on, I struggled in school until I was a junior in high school and there was no other place to “put” me other than “commercial” courses—business classes. That is, what was then considered the dumping grounds; and guess what? I excelled! It made sense; the “x” and “y” that previously didn't make sense were now about tangible products that had meaning. The biology and chemistry—which had had no meaning growing up in New York City—were now business math, shorthand, and typing. . . which could all lead to something that was meaningful to me. I now wanted to be a legal secretary—and now teachers invested in me and my new sense of motivation and drive. There weren’t enough courses for me.

Community colleges were new; they were my only option—I applied to one in South Fallsburg, New York–I was accepted. It was the start of something big! Me! I earned my Associates Degree in Science in Legal Studies with honors; but, not without challenges. I didn’t know how to study; I still don’t— I still struggle. There I met some of the most amazing professors who became the role models of mentors and motivated me to want to be a business teacher. From there I was pushed, encouraged, and nourished to go on—to Central Connecticut State University in New Britain—and to more professors who pushed and encouraged. They didn’t judge; they helped—they did what real teachers do.. Did they know? I told some; and some...I worked around.

You never know who you are talking with—people don’t wear their history. This has become my mantra: a statement I live by. I don’t wear this history; I share this history in the hope that others will come out of their box—reach out for help and let people like me help you grow and be all you can be. None of us have gotten where we are without others helping us.

AND THEN...sitting on the stage at The University of Texas at Austin the day of the hooding for my doctorate waiting for Vice President, Dean of the College of Education to call my name—yes, me! I thought of my beloved father who never had the chance to go to college and always wanted to—who fought for our country during WWII—and offered up a Jewish prayer of thanks and said “Papa can you see me? Me! Papa can you see me now? I did it! I did it, in spite of them; not because of them—and for you! And I so wish you were here to see me!” That moment still brings tears to my eyes; it is over 20 years later. . . yet the emotion is still strong and still clear. I teach so that other students don’t ever have to go through what I went through. . . I know the pain; I don’t want you to know the pain.

You never know who you are talking with . . .people don’t wear their history. . .you don’t know who you are talking with. . .reach out. . .none of us have gotten where we are without others helping us. Let us help. . . let me help.

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