I had heard stories about Mr. L from the eighth graders when I was in seventh grade. And I was excited, I heard that he was funny, at times tough, but still and always expected the best from his students. I wanted his class no matter what, really. When I found out he was going to be my Social Studies teacher, I was beyond happy.

Right off the bat his class was different. He told us right away what he expected, and how he would do things in the class. He said that we wouldn’t be sitting around the whole time taking notes, because that was boring for Mr. Lingenfelter as well. He told us about how when we reached the Salem Witch Trials how we would be in groups and be given a trial related to it, and how we’d have to actually be in “court.” He told us we’d do more interactive stuff like that during the year as well. I’m not saying that the class was perfect because at times I would complain about some of the homework and the test as well. I knew he thought we could do them, so I did. I remember one time that we had a project; Mr. L told us straight up that we had better have that project or our grades would drop considerably. I complained about it the whole time, and still procrastinated. But I was persistent to not disappoint one of the teachers that thought the most of us. That was the last thing I would have done.

Mr. L was strict about his home work being turned in on time, and how he wanted us to do the homework, I complained. I thought the homework took too much time, when I realized that he was only trying to get us to see the potential in ourselves. I didn’t know this, though until I left the eighth grade. The thing with Mr. L was the fact that he could be strict, and at times angry but most times he found a way to make us like the class and enjoy being in it. This one time, we were having a note taking class, and Mr. L and this one kid, were going at it. They weren’t arguing and neither one of them were actually mad at each other. But they both had comebacks and in the end we all died in laughter. Mr. L was crouched over crying, he even needed tissues, and the kid, Matt, had even fallen on the ground. If we were ever doing something boring, like notes, Mr. L always gave us something fun so it wasn’t so bad. I respected him for that, and many more things. But that was probably my favorite.

The one topic we talked about was when we did the Civil War in his class. He had us in groups, the Union and the Confederates (groups within each) against each other. We had to make a dance type of thing; with lyrics involved and sing about the topic we were given. We even videotaped it, and then the whole Union joined and the whole Confederates and did a big battle between the two. It was the best; we learned how to work together in groups and be confident in front of others. We watched them over, and talked about the information in the raps/lyrics. It honestly was amazing. And so interactive. Ever since Mr. L’s classroom, I’ve never looked at another classroom the same again. A lot of other teachers, not all, definitely not all, usually just make us take notes, but Mr. L did stuff with his notes. He didn’t just tell us to study and get ready for a test. He told us what we were going to do in the unit, and we did just that. But we use our notes for it. No other class really has the student’s act things out from the notes or even remotely close to that. Now after Mr. L’s class though, I am a tougher judge on how they teach the class. If they want us to take notes, I look to see if they will entertain us or involve us in some way, like Mr. Lingenfelter, and I thank him for that.

I want to thank Mr. L, for his teaching and how he taught us. I’ll never forget the fact that it wasn’t a sit around do nothing class anymore. It was fun, but we still learned. Mr. L was strict but one of the funniest teachers in the world. He expected the best, and now I try and give my best. So thank you Mr. Lingenfelter.