Boobsie

If we are fortunate as we trudge through the mandatory education system, we will be paired for a time with a teacher who will impact us for the rest of our lives. Most school teachers are there to do a good job, but sprinkled throughout the world's classrooms there are those who bring energy, passion, and optimism to their workplace and, thus, change lives.

I was destined to cross paths with Linda Cobb when I entered high school. Insecure, kind of shy, and rather directionless, I signed up for Drama classes simply because a couple of my friends did. This was a good choice for me. Drama classes were not grade-specific, so we got to mingle with older students, class was held in the auditorium instead of a traditional classroom, and there were plenty of opportunities for extra-curricular activities.

And Drama classes were taught by Linda Cobb. Ms Cobb was a breath of fresh air in a school filled with teachers with hard, bouffant hair-dos. She was young and spirited, and her enthusiasm was contagious. Drama was hands-down my favorite class, and if you thought you could slide by without participating, Ms Cobb immediately dispelled that notion. She had us rolling around onstage, playing charades, acting improvisationally, and reading and writing plays from the get-go. She encouraged everyone to join the Drama Club, and we put on two shows a year. We constructed and painted our own sets, and handled everything from lighting to make-up. She put in very long hours, well beyond what was required of her. We put in long hours, too, but few parents complained because we were in a safe environment instead of running the streets.

Ms Cobb was also the school's Forensics coach. She taught us how to collect evidence at crime scenes and perform autopsies. Hey, wait...I'm getting all this mixed up with Law & Order SVU. Forensics as in various forms of public speaking, to clarify. My speciality was poetry reading, and I moved through district and regional contests to become state champion.

With the above activities, in addition to the fun, came valuable lessons. We learned how to critique others and give constructive feedback. We also learned how to accept criticism. Believe me, this comes in handy as an adult. I had a deep, rich voice in a scrawny body, and I would sidle up to the podium when it was my turn to speak or read. Ms Cobb got up in front of class after I performed one day and did an imitation of me walking up to the podium. Cruel? No. On target? You bet. She taught me how to present myself confidently, even if I was feeling quite the opposite inside. This can mean the difference between getting a promotion or being passed over in the workplace.

I was surprised a few years ago to learn that speaking in front of a crowd ranks toward the top of most people's list of fears. After the tutelage of Ms Cobb, I left this fear in the dust. I could stand up today in front of a crowd of 50,000 with no problem. She helped me find my voice in many ways.

Ms Cobb was no mystery when it came to her social, political, or moral views, and she wanted to hear our opinions during a time in our lives when most adults did not. Our classes were often devoted to discussion of currently hot topics. We learned to look at a world outside our own, and appreciate differing points of view. She encouraged healthy debate, and taught us how to defend our own ideas while remaining open-minded to changing our positions. Sometimes during structured debate she would deliberately assign us to sides which she knew we actually opposed.

I learned so much more from her besides how to stand up in front of a crowd and say "blah-blah-blah." Through her guidance, sometimes gentle, sometimes steely, I became an articulate adult with enough self-confidence to face the world, and enough humility to value people who differ from me.

The story hasn't ended yet. Linda Cobb is still my good friend, over thirty years later.

Oh, and the blog title "Boobsie"? The older students gave her that nickname and gave her a nameplate, which she proudly but discreetly hung inside the trunk lid of her Pontiac Le Mans.