Teachers, part 2

Mrs. Hawkin's classroom was bright. Probably partly psychological, partly because we lived in Arizona, but that's how I remember her room. Mrs. Hawkins was bright. And cheerful. And kind. She had white hair like a grandma and wore dresses.  Her room was so much fun.  She taught us to tell time by making a huge clock on the floor with tape.  We would stand on the numbers as we learned.  Whenever you finished a book in her box of phonics, you could go to the cupboard to get a sucker- at Christmas she had those little candycanes. To this day, every time I see one of those little treats in their own wrapper, I think of her. It's clear to me that she loved teaching, and most importantly,
she loved us. 
Mrs. Hawkins lived on my street. How lucky is that?  I don't remember her at church,though she went. But, I do remember visiting her house.  You'd think that since she taught kids all week, she'd be less than excited to have some of them show up on her doorstep.  Not so. She welcomed us in every time. She gave us cookies and let us sit on her beautiful blue couches to eat them.  One time, we got there and she told us to take off our shoes.  Not for cleanliness sake, but because she had brand new carpet and wanted us to feel it with our bare feet. (OK, maybe it was for cleanliness, but she didn't make us feel that way.)  We marched around her house, burying our toes in the thick, baby blue plush.
Second grade may seem non-important, but not to a second-grader.  Mrs. Hawkins made school fun.  She helped me learn to read well, which has served me my whole life.  Most of all, she instilled in me a feeling of being important, the confidence that comes from being loved.  I imagine that in Heaven, she is teaching, still.

I decided to write these posts on teachers this week as school gets out because they are on my mind.  As I'm faced with a summer with my kids at home, I better appreciate what they do.  Especially when you have kids with special needs.  I got an e-mail this week from my son's resource teacher.  I was concerned about his teacher for next year.  She assured me that he would have a great teacher and that she had made sure the boys who were giving him such a hard time this year would not be together and would not be in his class. This e-mail brought me to tears.
 Having teachers who love to teach is a blessing.
Having teachers who love your children is priceless.