Member-only story
SCHOOL DAYS
How These Teachers Changed My Life
Lessons I’ll never forget
As the school year begins, happy tales of wonderful teachers making a true impact on a child are abundant. Loving notes these heroes receive on their retirement decades later make my heart swell, in a good way not in the call-a-doctor way.
I had no such teachers. They were mostly dicks. Not exaggerating.
It was Grade One and my mother had just left us. I was a vulnerable little duckie. I craved care and someone to tell me I wasn’t an asshole that no mother could love.
We were making Santas in art: red hat, button nose, white glue — you know the drill. Our teacher was a sizable woman. She hovered over the itty bitty plastic chairs so she did not break another one and have to be rescued by Kathy — the strongest child in the class — again. I think that squatting made her angry or maybe it was me. Look, I was seven, so I thought it was me. I made my mother angry and leave after all.
I’m totally over it. I promise.
Santas, art, back on track. Ms. Angry was walking around the classroom and holding a roll of cotton batting. Each layer was separated with indigo paper and I’d never seen anything like it. It looked soft and I wanted to touch it, so I did.
