To the Editor:

The letter from Deanna Lyles, “I quit teaching because I love children,” (April 1, The Smoky Mountain News) rocked me back on heels a bit. You state, Miss Lyles, you “quit teaching.” I prefer to believe, you didn’t leave teaching, teaching left you. I would further choose to express, you had the courage and mettle to do what many men and women want to do but haven’t the grit to accomplish. I applaud you, Deanna Lyles, and wish my 15 great grandchildren (all K-12 now) had you for a teacher.

Speaking only for myself, I wish I’d had your courage when I entered the professions of education and mental health in college in 1983 (at the age of 43) to follow my instincts that I was someplace I ought not to be. Being fired from responsible positions, in two different states, should have clued me also. Like the true “plugger” that I am, I soldiered on.

When I was hired by Jackson County Schools in February 2001, I could have used some of your bravery, Miss Lyles, because I knew after one week my days were numbered. I was informed by a social worker that I intimidated her by the way I was sitting. I’m sure I mumbled a politically correct, groveling apology in order to keep my job when I should have said, “I’ve been sitting this way for about 60 years, I hope you find some way to live with it.”

Likewise, when a school principal said to me, “David, don’t do so much, you’re making me look bad,” I should have said (but didn’t), “Sir, if I’m making you look bad, you’re not doing your job.” I lasted seven years.

The United States Navy believed me qualified to assist Iranian naval instructors (which I did). When I applied for a lateral licensure through WCU to be an elementary school guidance counselor (I have an master’s degree in community-counseling-psychology), I was told I wasn’t qualified because I didn’t have “multiculturalism” in my college transcripts.

Miss Lyles, I commend you for quitting for all the right reasons, and I admire your courage and tenacity. I waited until I was told I wasn’t qualified to be a teachers’ aide before I gave up. All in all, Deanna, you did great.

David L. Snell

Franklin