“Time is a gift, given to you, given to give you the time you
need, the time you need to have the time of your life.” Norton Juster, The Phantom Tollbooth
My favorite teacher was the
one I had for fourth grade. Her name was Mrs. Workman. I actually remember the
names of all my teachers from grade school.
Mrs. Workman was newly
married, I remember. She was so pretty with thick blonde hair and bouncy curls.
She had a bubbly personality to match the bounce in her hair and step. She was
funny and smiley.
What I loved most about Mrs.
Workman was that she had freckles too. Just like me. I had bunches and bunches.
So many, that I got picked on by boys in my class for them. I hated “freckle
face” comments so much that I asked my mom to buy me lemons to rub on my cheeks
in hopes that they would fade. I was a very sensitive sort even way back when but
I refused to cry (not to mention I was already getting tall and boys were so short).
I got enough razzing from my brother at home. She told me she loved my
freckles. So, I loved her back!
I was riveted by the way Mrs. Workman
read to the class, her voice. I adored reading too and she was the first to
recommend one of my favorite books, The Phantom Tollboth. I read it
immediately. (Both my kids loved this book as well)
Even back then, I would read non-stop and stay up later than my
parents knew just to finish a book. Then I could tell Mrs. Workman the next day.
She always said she was proud of the way I loved reading and talking about
books.
I clearly remember the last day of school. I was devastated to be
leaving her classroom. What would make it harder is she told us she was
moving away with her husband. I definitely wouldn’t be seeing her again. Not
even in the hallway. She said she would write me.
But something also happened that last day of school…this totally
grossed me out and I don’t know why even to this day. She raised her arms for
something and I noticed they were hairy and not just a little bit. I was so put
off and shocked because she was so pretty and this was very much unexpected in
my 9-year-old eyes.
Mrs. Workman did write me over the summer. Twice. And I wrote
her back but I couldn’t help thinking about whether she shaved her underarms or
not.
“So many
things are possible just as long as you don't know they're impossible.” Norton Juster, again!
1.) Share a story from fourth grade.
(inspired by Wild Life in the Woods).
