Worst? Not first!

Have desk, will write

It wasn't Mrs. Groseclose (real name). She was amazing and I loved her. Fourth grade was tolerable in a new city because of her. She got me my first pen pal - a young girl she met during her travels one summer to Holland. The young girl is now a grown woman in her late 40s like me, with two children and a husband and a career.

It wasn't Mr. Ballard, my 7th grade history teacher. He took a personal interest in me and the fact that I had written a 25-page doublespaced story. He was my first reader of the non-family kind.

It wasn't Mama Cash, as we called her. She wasn't rich and she wasn't my mama. She was my journalism teacher all fours years in high school. We loved her and purposefully left open all cabinet doors when we changed classes because we knew it bothered her - but she still loved us and edited us and I'm teaching middle schoolers creative writing today. Is this payback?

To be honest, my worst teachers don't take up space in my brain. I'm just glad their influence in my life was minimalized by the incredible impact and love and direction the aforementioned teachers provided.

I know I certainly don't have time to waste being anyone's worst teacher. I've got lots to do.

Police car with chains - 231220082258

"I really didn't see it coming. I'm a well-trained professional and should have anticipated it. Maybe I'm loosing my edge. Maybe I should retired."

"How can you even think such a thing? You're the chief, I'm the assistant, our population is less than double digits. Besides. I don't want your job. I like being home early enough in the evening to count moose before going to bed."

"That's the problem. I sold our moose to the next county so they could have them in a zoo exhibit. With budgets being what they are it was them or ..."

"Not having new chains on the police car tires!"

"If you ever mean to do a thing,
and mean to do it - really,
don't ever let it be by halves,
but do it fully, freely."
--- Frances Virginia Marlowe Huffaker
(my maternal grandmother)

This is my favorite quote. I hear it over and over as a child in the presence of my maternal grandmother. I used to wonder what it meant and as I grew it likewise grew on me. As I matured I understood more and more of its meaning until now, as a creative and expository writing teached for middle school students, I tell them this quote and marvel at the many layers of meaning and truth they find in it as well.

Maybe one day, they'll share it with others they love.

-- Cheryl B Lemine
www.cherylblemine.wordpress.com