The onset of the new school year prompted me to think about the teachers who have made a difference in my life.

My eighth grade English teacher, Mrs. Morton, taught us about diagramming sentences, an exercise that I came to love. She, in turn, took a shine to me, so of course, I thought she was wonderful. She was basically saying, “I see you and you matter,” a phrase every kid needs to hear at some point.

Mr. Prochaska, my eighth grade shop teacher, was another story. He was a short, squat man with bushy eyebrows and Coke-bottle glasses. He vented his anger about his looks and his lot by whipping miscreants with a long thick wooden paddle. I escaped his wrath, but my younger brother did not. Maybe that’s why I never developed handyman skills.

Mr. Boucher, my algebra teacher, was my first good male role model in school. He knew his stuff, he had a great sense of humor and he was a whiz in the stock market. What’s not to like?

There was nothing to like about Mr. Arp, my horrible first-year English teacher at Bowdoin College. He slapped an “F” in red ink on my first three papers with nary a word of explanation. Had I been blessed with a good English teacher, I might (and should) have majored in the subject. Instead, I chose psychology because the tests were all multiple choice. The professor (Norman “Normal” Munn) graded on a curve, and I had a knack for those tests and got an A+, a rarity in the days when C+ was the average grade for Bowdoin students. That was enough to convince me to major in psychology. Ah, the ignorance of youth.

I later found my footing thanks to two superb Bowdoin teaching legends: Ed Pols (philosophy) and Bill Geohegan (religion). They helped me learn how to think, which is the key to good writing. That said, I never took some of Bowdoin’s best professors, such as Herbie Brown (English), Athern Daggett (Government), Bill Whiteside (History) and Nate Dane (Classics). More youthful ignorance.

Today I advise Bowdoin students to pick courses by the quality of the professor, not just the content. And don’t stay away from the tough graders, because one can often learn the most from them.

Years later, when I was working as director of admissions at Ohio Wesleyan University, I took an article-writing course in the summer taught by Verne Edwards, the legendary journalism professor who groomed many future journalists. Parade magazine published one of my articles, which gave me a real boost of confidence.

A few years ago, I had the pleasure of auditing courses taught by David Collings and Aviva Briefel, both outstanding English professors at Bowdoin. They know their stuff and, more important, they know how to engage students in thoughtful discussions. I guess it’s never too late to earn your cred, if not your degree, as an English major. Incidentally, I’d also like to give a shout out to Bowdoin history professor Patrick Rael, who knows how to make history come alive.

Everyone has no doubt experienced some good teachers and some not-so-good teachers in life. I could go off on a tangent, now, about all of the factors that combine to drive good people away from pursuing a teaching career: stingy school boards; narrow-minded parents concerned that their children might actually learn real history or, even worse, be exposed to the thoughts and feelings of gay people or, horror of horrors, trans people. But I won’t.

I’d rather end on an upbeat note, grateful for all the teachers who have made a positive impact on my life. I encourage you, dear readers, to do the same.

David Treadwell, a Brunswick writer, welcomes commentary and suggestions for future “Just a Little Old” columns. dtreadw575@aol.com.