In Rememberance

In Remembrance

I remember it as if it were yesterday.

First grade had lasted forever, especially since my teacher was the sadistic Mrs. Jackson. She had the reputation of being toughest teacher in school. Every day it was read this and count that. Resistance was futile. She would force us to learn no matter what. We even had homework!

Why was spelling so important anyway?

The last day of school was play day. We deserved it after all of that studying we had done for her. There were cupcakes and punch and all kind of games. Not a single book was opened; in fact, we had turned them all in the day before.

The best part about that day was the anticipation of the endless summer that lay ahead. No more learning! No more Mrs. Jackson. Freedom!

As that last day came to an end, we were each given a collection of stuff to take home. It was all of the work she had collected that year. First grade in a box. Some of it was math and writing exercises. Most of it was arts and crafts and other fun things that we had made.

When the final bell rang, we all lined up to file out of the room. Mrs. Jackson had insisted on giving each of us a big hug before letting us through the door. The Promised Land was moments away.

Suddenly, it was my turn to get a hug. As she bent down, I could see tears in her eyes. At six years old, I had a moment of clarity. We were her kids. How about that!

She missed us already.

I accepted my hug and fled into summer.

Now, looking down at my forty-year old box of loot, I miss her too.

Thank you, Mrs. Jackson.

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