Third grade. When I look back on that year, it still seems magical. I had, you see, the very best teacher who ever wrote her name on a chalkboard.
The year I had Mrs. Wingert for a teacher was her last year. And maybe that is why she was so memorable. Maybe she was trying hard to make it a magical year for herself too.
She told us stories. Like the time her husband got mad and punched a mule in the mouth and broke his hand. Or the time she watched as birds landed on a telephone line only to be electrocuted and fall to the ground. As a class of 8 year olds, we were mesmerized. As an adult, I can see through these tales for the fiction they probably were.
She also knew the power of praise. I will never forget her remark about my observation that pomegranate seeds were heart shaped. “Brilliant!”
Towards the end of the year, Mrs. Wingert started to clean out her classroom. She held daily drawings. Mysteriously, every kid won something, every day.
When Mrs. Wingert retired, the school presented her with a new handbag.
But I had already given her my heart.
Who was your favorite teacher?
I intended to post this yesterday on Lisa’s blog Two Bears Farm for her Memory Lane Friday linkup, but my computer was “sick” all day. Here it is now-and Lisa-I’ll try to link up next week.
Pictures sourced from the internet.