English Teacher Quotes

I taught myself English. My English teacher was the sitcom ‘Friends.’ Back in the days when I was, like, 15, 14, it was like a syndrome for Korean parents to make their kids watch ‘Friends.’ I thought I was a victim at that time, but now I’m the lucky one.

In about 9th grade, an English teacher told me I had a talent to act. He said I should audition for a performing arts high school, so I did on a whim. I got accepted. Then I got accepted at the Julliard School, and by then, I was serious about it.

I wanted to be an English teacher. I wanted to do it for the corduroy jackets with patches on the side. When I got to college, as I was walking across campus one day, I ripped off a little flyer for this sketch-comedy group. It ended up being one of the greatest things I’ve ever done.

I’m not a politician. I am an English teacher.

Kathy Dewar, my high-school English teacher, introduced me to journalism. From the moment I wrote my first article for the student paper, I convinced myself that having my name in print – writing in English, interviewing Americans – validated my presence here.

My mother was an English teacher who decided to become a math teacher, and she used me as a guinea pig at home. My father had been a math teacher and then went to work at a steel mill because, frankly, he could make more money doing that.

The first article carrying Vonnegut’s byline, ‘This Business of Whistle Purchasing,’ a lighthearted criticism of a school fund-raiser, was submitted at the urging of his sophomore English teacher.

I must have got my detailed, obsessive streak from my father, who was an English teacher, because my mother wasn’t like me at all.

In high school, my English teacher Celeste McMenamin introduced me to the great novels and Shakespeare and taught me how to write. Essays, poetry, critical analysis. Writing is a skill that was painful then but a love of mine now.

My father is a visual artist, so I was influenced by him, and my mother is an English teacher who forced me to read a lot of books and poetry and get involved in theatre. I developed a varied taste for different arts.

My brother is a policeman; my sister‘s an English teacher. When I hear what they make versus what I make, it’s ridiculous.

A lot of my activity in the theatre, and even in writing poems, was a kind of retrospective aggro on the English teacher who wouldn’t allow me to read poetry aloud.

I want to talk about my very first play, when I was in eighth grade. One day, my English teacher, Mrs. Baker, announced that we were going to read ‘On Borrowed Time’ out loud in class. I was a mediocre student; I was terrified that she was going to call on me, so I hid my head.

My father is a retired army captain and banking software salesman, and my mother is an English teacher.

My high school English teacher in junior year, Dr. Robert Parsons, assigned us some Poe stories, including ‘The Black Cat’ and ‘The Purloined Letter.’ Being an animal person, I had trouble with ‘The Black Cat!’ I got hooked instead by ‘The Purloined Letter,’ a Poe story with detective C. Auguste Dupin.

One of the things I’ve always liked about my husband is he’s very good at lots of stuff. He was an English teacher when I met him. He wrote poetry and played the guitar. As time went on, he decided to go into economics, so he’s very analytical and mathematical in addition to his artsy side.

I’m into books – I love literature, so I toyed with the idea of being an English teacher. I had a fantastic English teacher at school. I think great English teachers make the world go round.

My dad is an English teacher, and my mom is a textiles artist. My parents made my sisters and me feel that if we wanted to pursue something creative, it could be done. They’ve always been supportive of everything from the beginning.

My dad’s an English teacher and my mum‘s a midwife. Then my mum’s side of the family are all crazy creative.

I flunked my exam for university two times before I was accepted by what was considered my city‘s worst university, Hangzhou Teachers University. I was studying to be a high school English teacher. In my university, I was elected student chairman and later became chairman of the city’s Students Federation.

In terms of moments that pushed me toward becoming a writer… My parents, my wife, and my English teacher in the 8th grade were all hugely supportive at moments during my development as a writer that were critical, where I might have quit when things got too hard.

My joke is that my father was a minister and my mother was an English teacher, so I’m trained to see the world in terms of symbols, which is hard when you just want to make toast.

I chose to be a maths teacher because I thought the marking would be easy. You’d just tick and cross, whereas if you’re an English teacher, you’ve got to read essays. Then they said I had to analyse the methodology. It takes an eternity, it’s insane!

My mother was an English teacher and she imbibed the habit of reading, and encouraged me to participate in debates and the like.

By junior high, I was a horrible student. But during my sophomore year of high school, I did have a fabulous English teacher, and I would go to school just for her class and then skip out afterwards. That’s actually when I started writing, although I didn’t think of it then as something I might someday do.

I dropped out of high school when I was 16, after I had a huge argument with my English teacher over the meaning of the word ‘existentialism.’

I was a victim of a stereotype. There were only two of us Negro kids in the whole class, and our English teacher was always stressing the importance of rhythm in poetry. Well, everybody knows – except us – that all Negroes have rhythms, so they elected me class poet.

I still don’t know what I’m going to be. I love acting. I would love to be an English teacher. I would love to be a housewife and have a chateau in the South of France, I would love to be a singer that travels to cafes around different towns.

I could never have pictured myself writing a book when I was 25 years old. My mom was an English teacher but I wasn’t that way growing up.

I planned on being an English teacher, but I don’t know where that went.

In many ways, ‘What Teachers Make: In Praise of the Greatest Job in the World’ is just one big thank-you note to my teachers. The book is dedicated to my fifth and sixth grade English teacher, Dr. Joseph D’Angelo, a massive force of erudition, martial artistry, culture, and love.

Ironically, for a few million people in the Far East, I did become an English teacher through my music.

I read ‘the Hobbit‘ at the age when you’re supposed to read it. I didn’t read ‘The Lord Of The Rings.’ My father, who was an English teacher, advised me that once I had read ‘the Hobbit,’ that would be enough. I could then move on to Dostoyevsky.

I was an educated girl. I’d done very well in school. I had a good point average and graduated from USC as an English teacher. My dad didn’t even finish high school.

When I was in prep school, an English teacher said to me, ‘Hemingway, I expect more from you!’ And I said, ‘Why, sir?’