On Facebook, Telling Teachers How Much They Meant

Darci Hemleb Thompson had been on the lookout for Alice D’Addario for many years. From her home in Hampton, Va., Ms. Thompson, 49, who is married and has a 12-year-old daughter, was determined to find Ms. D’Addario on the Internet. She tried every search engine and networking site she could find.

About 18 months ago she hit the jackpot.

“Nice to see one of the greatest teachers of all time on Facebook!” Ms. Thompson wrote on Ms. D’Addario’s wall. “I love to go to your page just to see your smiling face. Even your eyes still smile. You are an amazing person!”

Ms. D’Addario was Ms. Thompson’s Advanced Placement history teacher at Walt Whitman High School in Huntington Station, on Long Island, in 1977.

“She had such a huge impact on my life as a young adult,” Ms. Thompson said, describing her tumultuous teenage years living with two alcoholic parents and experiencing early symptoms of multiple sclerosis.

“I was depressed and so sad and so isolated, and she reached out and saved me,” Ms. Thompson added. “Facebook gave me the chance to tell her, ‘You’re the one who pulled me through.’ ”

At a time when public school teachers are being blamed for everything from poor test scores to budget crises, Facebook is one place where they are receiving adulation, albeit delayed.

The site has drawn more attention as a platform for adolescent meanness and bullying, and as a vehicle for high school and college students to ruthlessly dissect their teachers. But people who are 20, 30 or 40 years beyond graduation are using Facebook to re-establish relationships with teachers and express gratitude and overdue respect.

Brad Scharff, 49, a finance manager at Time Inc. who knew Ms. D’Addario through her role as the junior class adviser, also reconnected with her online.

“It was like bringing back a lot of the more positive aspects of the high school years when I saw her on Facebook,” Mr. Scharff said.

Over the years, teacher tributes have come in broad formats, in movies like “To Sir, With Love” and “Stand and Deliver” and in television series like “Room 222.” Now, on Facebook, the praise is personalized, more widespread and more democratic.

On Facebook walls and dedicated tribute pages, the writings betray emotions that students dared not display in their youth. They include moving messages (“You inspired each of us to learn and go beyond what we thought we could achieve”), lighthearted claims on old debts (“You owe us a pool party — you promised us one if the Dow ever reached 3,000”) and recollections of specific events (“You got me out of detention one time”).

In the weeks before the death last month of Jerry Sheik, a retired band teacher from Intermediate School 70 in Chelsea, his wife, Judith Kalina, said he was overwhelmed by the praise written on a Facebook page created in his honor, “Sheik’s Freaks Reunite: A Celebration for Jerry Sheik.”

The page has 135 members, mostly students from the 1970s who played in the stage band Mr. Sheik conducted. They have posted old band photos and recalled their rendition of “Oye Como Va.”

One former student, Melissa Sgroi, wrote, “There are few people that you look back on in your life and know they left an indelible mark. Thank you Jerry Sheik for being one of those people.”

Another of Mr. Sheik’s students, Ned Otter, said, “Jerry was the first one to put a sax in my hand.” Mr. Otter went on to play saxophone professionally, touring with Dizzy Gillespie. He is one of nine overseers of the Sheik’s Freaks page.

“He played a critical role in my life,” Mr. Otter added.

Across the Hudson River in New Jersey, another music teacher inspired the page “Winston Hughes — Best Chorus Teacher Ever.” Mr. Hughes was surprised to learn that such a page existed.

“I had no idea about this,” said Mr. Hughes, 76, who retired from Edison High School in 1996. “I knew that I had impact, but I never knew the impact was as large as the writings I’ve read.”

Susan Poper Gordon, class of 1971, wrote, “He treated every student with respect, challenged us to stretch ourselves musically, taught us what artistry was and created beauty out of whatever voices walked into his room.” Another student wrote, “Mr. Hughes was the biggest influence on my life at Edison High. He encouraged us to be the best, vocally and personally.”

The tributes underscore what researchers have identified as a major force in adolescents’ lives, said Jacqueline Ancess, a researcher at Teachers College at Columbia University. “The most powerful factor in transforming students is a relationship with a caring teacher who a kid feels particularly connected to,” said Dr. Ancess, who added that many students had told her that if not for a particular teacher, they would not have graduated or would not have taken a certain direction.

Some former students have tried to recreate old roles, using Facebook messages to draw a teacher who had nurtured them back into their lives.

Lisa Nielsen, 41, a former library media specialist at Public School 175/Intermediate School 275 in Harlem, which she said was for troubled students, logged on to Facebook one day last year and saw this message:

“Hey Ms. Nielsen, I had to find you because you made a wonderful impact on my life. If people only knew how great of a teacher you are.” The message continued, “I know it’s been at least 10 years since you took me under your wing,” and added, “Let’s talk, got a lot to say!”

The writer, Keryce Davis, who was a sixth-grade student of Ms. Nielsen’s, is now 22 and works as an optician in Washington, after receiving an associate’s degree. Ms. Nielsen is glad to re-enter Ms. Davis’s life, and said they were discussing possibilities for Ms. Davis’s future.

Bill Chemerka, 64, who was a history teacher at Madison High School in New Jersey for 29 years, said he did not know what Facebook was until a student pointed him to the 455-member “Mr. Chemerka Fan Club” page. He found this message: “Your love of history and teaching oozed from your pores and allowed every student to absorb your knowledge and passion for life and history.”

Sheldon Jacobowitz, 68, said he was delighted about his Facebook connection with roughly 200 former students from New Utrecht High School in Bensonhurst, Brooklyn — the school that inspired the 1970s television series “Welcome Back, Kotter” — where he taught math for 37 years.

“I think it’s amazing; it’s a great feeling,” Mr. Jacobowitz said. “How they make you feel that you were so important in their lives — it makes everything worthwhile.”