My Teacher

My first grade teacher died recently. I felt a depth of sadness when I heard about it that surprised me. I hadn’t seen her in years, and I’ve no idea, really, who she was as a person.  She was my teacher. I remember her face and her voice. I remember her hairstyle, which was a cross between beehive and scarf-wearing, teased and sprayed grandma. I remember that she barked at me on the first day of school, saying that I would spend my reading group time in the library because “you already know how to read, and I don’t have anything for you...

Read More