First grade teachers
An ad in the subway for the NYC Teaching Fellows reads, "You remember the name of your first grade teacher. Who will remember yours?" I don't remember my first grade teacher, but I remember my fourth. She gave us pencils one year for Christmas. I knew they were pencils before I opened the gift. I could smell the wood through the wrapping paper. They were green with gold lettering, "Merry Christmas From Mrs. Powell." I never used them.
Years ago I returned to Idaho and visited my elementary school. Mrs. Powell was still there, shorter than I remember, but then everything was. I hadn't been back since leaving the summer after fourth grade. Her hair was blonde; I remembered a brunette. It may have been frosted. A pipe had broken in her classroom, but she pretended to remember me before rushing off to find a janitor. On the wall was a photograph of a snow dragon that had been carved on the front lawn one of the years I attended. Or maybe they do that every year. I want to remember the black and white picture as from my own.
Posted by eku at January 21, 2004 6:41 PM