I've been visiting schools, talking with teachers and writing about education for a dozen years, but all I need to know about good teaching I learned in fourth grade.

That was the year Mr. Greenblatt came to teach me and 22 others at Carmody Hills Elementary, a bland, one-story edifice in Prince George's County, Md.

For many reasons, Mr. Greenblatt looms large in my mind, some three decades later. One, he was a white person in a school with a 99-percent African-American teacher and student population.

Two, he was the rare male in a profession that is female-dominated, particularly at the elementary level.

Then there was the way Mr. Greenblatt taught. Education is full of teachers who copy pages from workbooks and scrawl uninspiring texts across chalkboards. Mr. Greenblatt preferred to unfold the day's newspaper with an excitement that made me believe he had driven all the way to school waiting for the chance to share the news.

He rarely stood up front presiding over the class from on high. Instead, he walked amid the desks, pausing to look us in the eye, talking as he went.

Clearest in my mind, right down to his everyday uniform of khaki pants and worn, striped shirts, was how Mr. Greenblatt would pose a question and stop, listening intently for the answer. He was my teacher but I really saw him as a fellow traveler on the journey of discovery.

Talking to my sister the other day, I was surprised that she, too, remembered Mr. Greenblatt. She was never his student; rather, she remembered him for the many ways he angered our father. Mr. Greenblatt believed in open, frequent communication with parents. My father was old-fashioned and believed teachers should do their job, let parents do theirs and never the twain ought to meet — at least not via the frequent calls and notes favored by Mr. Greenblatt.

The year I had Mr. Greenblatt was the first year I had an inkling that other people thought I was bright. It was the year I discovered that the fun I was having was called learning.

Years later, I was a young journalist working at a large-city newspaper and I got a phone call from Mr. Greenblatt. He had seen my byline in a local newspaper. He didn't call me up to congratulate me on my career success. Instead, he acted as he had when he was my teacher. He talked to me like a person who had thoughts as worthwhile and compelling as his own.

We talked about the Persian Gulf War, the high cost of housing and other current topics — funny how the more things change, the more they stay the same. When the conversation ended, I was momentarily disappointed that Mr. Greenblatt didn't ooh and aaah over my job and success. Then it hit me. Mr. Greenblatt had never expected anything but the best from me and his other students. To him, it was not out of the ordinary that some of us delivered.

With another school year over, many are thinking about what made their last teacher so great — or so very not.

It seems we all know what makes a bad teacher. Newspaper archives and school district personnel records are full of apt descriptions. There are the teachers who show up every day but are simply marking time until retirement or something better comes along. They draw lines through the calendar days of their lives like inmates checking off prison time. And there are the frustrated and demoralized teachers, the ones who open their paychecks and feel like it is a sign of the world's utter disregard for education.

Such anecdotes are buttressed by this statistic: Approximately 50 percent of all teachers will leave their profession within the first five years, according to the National Commission on Teaching & America's Future.

That's why every June we ought to send out a thanks to the teachers who work hard not to be like the ones described above. They are the teachers who most days are in love with their jobs, charmed by the inquisitive faces before them, and fight to remain optimistic about their ability to change a mind, if not a life.

If I were the praying kind, I'd pray they are the teachers who come back next fall. And I'd pray that every student has one of these teachers, at least once, if not often.

The alchemy of teaching has been studied and distilled to a stiff list of best practices.

The best teachers should have:

• A cultural awareness and appreciation for different perspectives;

• Strong organization and management skills;

• An ability to differentiate learning methods.

I would add an ability to make yourself care about people and an open honesty that lets them see your concern.

A story about education in Britain quoted a teacher perfectly:

"It's about being an enthusiastic explorer of the great body of knowledge and taking the kids along with you," this teacher said. "So they feel they have something important to add, their views are taken seriously and you are fellow learners." Exactly.

I can't remember a single thing I learned in fourth grade but I do remember how much I enjoyed learning it.

Lynne K. Varner's column appears regularly on editorial pages of The Times. Her e-mail address is lvarner@seattletimes.com