Connecticut teacher Tammy Exum serves in her state’s House of Reps

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Elementary school teacher Tammy Exum of West Hartford, Connecticut, now serves in her state’s House of Representatives. Photo credit: Tammy Exum.

Many excellent classroom teachers go on to successful careers in politics. One of these is Connecticut elementary school teacher Tammy Exum, who now serves in her state’s House of Representatives.

After graduating from Fuquay-Varina High School in North Carolina, Tammy earned her Bachelor’s degree in Early Childhood Education from the University of North Carolina, Greensboro. In 1999, she earned her Master’s in Business Administration from Atlanta University. After college, Tammy inaugurated her career as an elementary school teacher in West Hartford, Connecticut.

A lifelong champion of education, Tammy is a former elementary school teacher. She is also the former President and Executive Board Member of West Hartford Parent Teacher Association. In addition, she formerly served as Vice Chair of The West Hartford Board of Education.

In 2019, Tammy was elected on the Democratic ticket to the Connecticut House of Representatives. There she represents District 19, which includes West Hartford, Avon, and Farmington. She was chosen in a special election to fill the seat vacated by incumbent Derek Slap when he won election to the state Senate.

Since she has taken office, Tammy has been a member of the Committees for Commerce; Higher Education and Employment Advancement; Education; Administration and Elections; Environment; and Banking. As a member of the House, Tammy has introduced two bills that protect the rights of Connecticut residents who suffer from Autism Spectrum Disorder. These bills have already passed Connecticut’s General Assembly House of Representatives.

Learn more about Tammy Exum by clicking on this link to Votesmart.com.

Teacher Helen Hulick fought against “anti-slackism”

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Teacher Helen Hulick, who pioneered new strategies for working with deaf students, fought the good fight against “anti-slackism” for women. Photo credit:  Los Angeles Times.

Often times plucky educators will take a stand on social issues that benefit everyone. One of these was Helen Hulick, who helped eliminate the threat of  “anti-slackism” for women. What is “anti-slackism,” you ask? Read on to find out.

Helen was called to court as a witness in a burglary case in November, 1938. The 29-year-old had earned some renown as an innovative educator who pioneered auditory-verbal approaches for working with deaf children. She arrived at court in her usual attire of a blouse and slacks. But seeing slacks on a woman offended Judge Arthur S. Guerin so greatly that he wouldn’t allow the teacher to testify. Instead, he rescheduled her testimony and ordered her to wear a dress at her next appearance. However, Helen refused to comply with the court order. “You tell the judge I will stand on my rights,” the teacher declared. “If he orders me to change into a dress I won’t do it. I like slacks. They’re comfortable.”
The second time she appeared at court wearing slacks, the judge criticized Helen, for both her wardrobe and her attitude. “The last time you were in this court dressed as you are now and reclining on your neck on the back of your chair, you drew more attention from spectators, prisoners and court attaches than the legal business at hand,” the judge complained. “You were requested to return in garb acceptable to courtroom procedure. Today you come back dressed in pants and openly defying the court (…) “The court hereby orders and directs you to return tomorrow in accepted dress. If you insist on wearing slacks again you will be prevented from testifying (…) But be prepared to be punished according to law for contempt of court,” the judge warned. Again, Helen refused. “Listen, I’ve worn slacks since I was 15. I don’t own a dress except a formal,” she said. “If he wants me to appear in a formal gown that’s okay with me. I’ll come back in slacks and if he puts me in jail I hope it will help to free women forever of anti-slackism,” she declared.
For a third time, Helen went to court wearing slacks, but this time, she also brought with her Attorney William Katz. The attorney was armed with citations supporting Helen’s argument that she had the right to appear in the attire of her choice. Nevertheless, Judge Guerin held her in contempt of court and sentenced her to five days in jail. There she was forced to wear the denim dress worn by women prisoners. When her attorney declared they would be appealing the sentence, Helen was released on her own recognizance. But by then, Helen’s story had generated a great deal of attention, and hundreds of supporters sent letters of protest to the courthouse. As a result of the appeal, the Appellate Division overturned Judge Guerin’s contempt citation.
As a teacher, Helen Hulick continued to do amazing work throughout her career. In 1985, she was given an honorary Doctor of Humanities from Lafayette College “for her work as teacher, scientist and pioneer in the field of auditory therapy.” In 1988, when she was 80, the Alexander Graham Bell Association for the Deaf awarded her the organization’s highest tribute, Honors of the Association. Helen not only made a difference in the lives of so many students, but also for helping to free women of “anti-slackism” along the way.
Many thanks to author Dr. Rebecca Haines for sharing the story of this amazing educator.

Miss America 1969 went on to career as a PE teacher and coach

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Retired PE teacher and coach Judith Ford Nash of Illinois enjoyed fame as Miss America 1969. Photo credit: Dispatch Argus.

Many fine classroom teachers have earned fame in areas outside of education. One of these is Judith Ford Nash, a physical education teacher and coach who was crowned Miss America in 1969.

Judith was born on December 26, 1949, in Iowa City, Iowa, although she was raised in Belvidere, Illinois. As a student at Belvedere High School, young Judith already demonstrated talent in gymnastics and athletics. In 1965, at the age of 15, she became a member of the US trampoline team and traveled to Vienna, Austria, to take part in an international exhibition. She was also a member of her school’s cheerleading squad.

While still a teenager, Judith won her first pageant title: Miss Illinois County Fair. During those years, she was also named Miss Illinois Teenager. In 1968, she garnered the title of Miss Boone County. That same year, she went on to capture the title of Miss Illinois. At the time, she was working as a lifeguard at the city public pool and also as a swimming instructor. In 1969, Judith represented Illinois as a contestant in the Miss American Pageant. By then, she had earned a reputation as a world-class trampolinist, and she used her skills on the trampoline for her performance in the talent portion of the competition. She is the only Miss America contestant ever to compete using the trampoline.

After completing her freshman year of college at the University of Louisiana, Lafayette, Judith completed the requirements for her Bachelor’s degree in Physical Education at the University of Illinois, Ubana-Champaign. Later she earned a Master’s degree from the Western Illinois University.

After college, Judith spent eight years as a member of the President’s Council on Physical Fitness and Sports, having been appointed by Presidents Richard Nixon and Gerald Ford. In 1990 she moved to Geneseo, Illinois, where she taught elementary school physical education. She also coached high school girls’ golf and middle school basketball and track for nearly 20 years. During that time, Judith remembers, her students relished having a celebrity as a teacher and coach. “My golfers liked to tell their opponents, ‘You may have beaten us, but our coach was Miss America,'” she says, laughing.

You can read more about this amazing educator and athlete at Northwest Quarterly.

Sept. 11, 2001: That was a difficult day to be a teacher

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Terry Lee Marzell shares her memories of teaching anxiety-ridden students on Sept. 11, 2001. Photo credit: Terry Marzell

That Tuesday started out like just about any other weekday in just about any other month in just about any other year of my teaching career. I groaned when the alarm clock sounded off; nevertheless, I forced my eyes open, peeled myself out of bed, and stumbled to the bathroom sink to brush my teeth. Like just about any other night in my teaching career, I’d been up late grading papers, I hadn’t slept well, and even though I’d slept, I was exhausted.

As I was running cold water through my toothbrush, my level-headed and unflappable husband, who typically watches the morning news while he dresses for work, called me into the next room. “Come look at this,” he said in an even tone. “Something’s going on in New York.”

The North Tower of the World Trade Center had been hit by an airplane. Side by side we silently watched the continuous repetition of the explosive impact and the resulting inferno on the screen. We were still standing there when, to our horror, the South Tower was hit by a second plane. The aircraft sliced into the concrete and steel structure like a knife cutting butter, igniting a second conflagration. Shocked news commentators began to speculate the crashes were not accidental.

Half an hour later I was driving my customary route through the Chino dairy preserve on my way to school. My ears were superglued to updates announced through the car radio. That’s how I heard that the South Tower, the second building to be struck, had collapsed.

Once I arrived at the campus, I grabbed the contents of my mailbox and hustled to the teachers’ lounge, where I found a hushed group of co-workers clustered around the television mounted on the wall. My eyes skimmed the words “Special people work here” stenciled on the wall in black letters on a red background. I glanced back to the “breaking news” on the TV screen. Before the bell signaled the start of first period, we learned the North Tower, too, had collapsed, causing each of the 70-odd floors below the point of impact to pancake, until all that was left of what was once one of the tallest buildings in the world was reduced to a dusty heap of smoldering concrete and twisted steel. Disbelief and distress was evident in the face, the humped shoulders, the posture of every person in the room.

I taught my first period Sophomore Language Arts class that morning on automatic pilot. I didn’t mention anything about what I had seen or what I knew about the events that had already occurred that day. I didn’t want to upset my kids. But I remember thinking that many of my colleagues, particularly those in the Social Studies Department, use news reports on television as a springboard for class discussions about current events. So it was no surprise that by the time my second period class arrived, many of my students were already aware. They knew our country was under attack. And they were distraught.

Frankly, when distressing things like this happen, my instinct is to stubbornly forge ahead with the plan or the routine. I wait until the work day is over and I am at home to deal with my reactions and feelings. But kids aren’t like that. They want to know what’s happening, and they want to deal with it, NOW. No matter what the teacher wants, the students will demand to know what’s going on, they ask questions, they react, and no matter how hard you try to keep them to the lesson, they insistently pull the conversation back to the topic. And on this particular day, they were begging to be reassured that everything was going to be all right. I couldn’t just forge ahead without first addressing their concerns.

Having said that, I would also like to say that I don’t believe it’s beneficial for students to go from classroom to classroom all day, watching alarming news reports on television, and getting more and more upset as the day progresses. But on this day, I myself felt a driving need to know what was happening, so I agreed to turn on the television, just for a few minutes.

By this time, hijackings were confirmed. Reports of the fiery plane crash into the Pentagon in Washington, DC, were being described. A fourth hijacked plane crashed in an empty field in rural Pennsylvania. Legislators were evacuated from the White House and the US Capitol, accompanied by images of men in business suits and women in professional ensembles and heels scrambling down the steps of the stately historic building. All over the country, airline flights were immediately cancelled to prevent further hijackings. And the images of the collapsed structures, the once imposing buildings disintegrated into a pile of rubble amidst a huge billowing cloud of choking dust, were apocalyptic.

Holy mackerel, I thought, no wonder the kids were walking buckets of anxiety.

I turned the television off and took a deep breath. I faced the kids and encouraged them to verbalize their thoughts and reactions. They were terrified. I mean, really terrified. Their biggest fear, it was clear, was that at any moment the next hijacked plane would crash right on top of them. Right there, at school.

I took another deep breath. “I don’t think we need to worry about that,” I said finally, in the most soothing voice I could muster. “These hijackings appear to be taking place on the East Coast, in big cities with tall buildings, or at important military buildings. We’re on the West Coast, Corona is a small town a good distance away from Los Angeles, and we don’t have any tall buildings,” I reasoned earnestly. “I think we’re safe here.”

I could see the kids digesting and accepting this logic. I could feel the tension loosening. With about 15 minutes left in the period, I asked them to write whatever else they felt needed to be said about the attacks. This was important because not everybody feels safe sharing out loud, but everybody needs an opportunity to process and express.

I had to go through this three more times that day. Each period, I had to hold myself together, no matter what I felt personally, no matter what happened, until at last I was free to go home and I could allow myself to fall apart. As soon as I hit the door, I flung myself into my husband’s arms, and the two of us expressed our own fears and sought our own reassurances.

In retrospect, I know that I am just one of, literally, millions of teachers all over the country who had to abandon a carefully-constructed lesson plan that day to conduct impromptu on-the-spot counseling for panicky kids. Nor was that the only traumatic occasion in our nation’s history when a day in the life of a teacher required this. Helping our kids understand, cope, and endure is part of the job.