An object lesson

My high school’s name was recently changed from Woodrow Wilson, a former US president and huge racist – remind you of anyone? – to Jackson-Reed High School

- JONATHAN KRONSTADT

The first part of the new name is in honour of Edna Burke Jackson, the first African-American teacher at the school and easily the best teacher I ever had.

Mrs Jackson was a 1.45m force of nature, and I loved her as much as I’ve ever loved anyone who consistently frightened me. She was innovative, challenging and tireless, even though she’d been teaching for almost 40 years by the time we met. Mrs Jackson and I shared space in a school that was horribly overcrowded with students, most of whom came from intensely challenging circumstances and had no interest in being there. I took a class from her in each of my three years, and somehow she managed to not only keep my interest but start me on the road to becoming a critical thinker and reasonably engaged planet Earth citizen.

In a perfect world, every student would have a dozen Mrs Jacksons, and teachers would be among any nation’s highest-paid and most respected professionals. Sadly, in the US, we are systematically running them out of the building, using a potent cocktail of lousy pay, worse working conditions, crazed parents, intimidating school boards and the prospect of catching a deadly disease.