Magazine, website & books written by teens since 1989

A Teacher and a True Friend

Custom User Avatar
More by this author
Mrs. B an extraordinary teacher

“A good teacher is like a candle, it consumes it’s self to light the way for others”
~ Author Unknown




Every human big or small has at least one person that inspired, or reached out for them in some way, that they can still remember that person even though it happened more then two decades ago. As for me, I do have a teacher that came into my life, inspiring me, and dedicating her time to spend time with me. This teacher was my second grade teacher who was given to me on September 9, 2004. Her name was Mrs. B. She had to be the best teacher I had even though this happened six years ago. Mrs. B truly inspired me for a lesson I could never forget. But this story is just the beginning.

It all began when I came to second grade in 2004 from a dreadful summer from being hospitalized for my Surgery that happened a month before school in August. So I ended up coming to school with a hat covering my bald head. I also brought with me a negative attitude about learning because I thought I couldn’t learn due to my horrifying grades back when I was in first grade. After that year I started to hate school, because I thought I was dumb, until Mrs. B pointed out that I could learn. My first day started with my school bus screeching to a stop in front of my school. I entered the building walking up to the main desk asking for my new classroom number. An ageing woman covered in tiny folded creases around her face, asked “What is your name?”
I then replied “Rachel Ms.” She scrolled down with her finger searching for my name.
“You are out in the trailers room T4. Have a fun first day of school.” She replied back. My eyes glued onto the paper I walked to the very back of the school, hearing the older kids chatting about how fun their summer was.
“They are so lucky. I had to stay in the hospital for two weeks.” I grumbled to myself. With my backpack still on my back I walked outside, seeing the collage of the fall leaves covering the blue autumn sky like a big quilt warm enough to snug up and fall asleep. We had four different trailers in outside our school. My eyes glued to the small sheet again I found my trailer, right next to the small playground next to my new classroom. When I came into Mrs. B’s classroom, it was like any ordinary classroom. Filled with posters, and a small library in the corner of the class room. Mrs. B was more beautiful than I pictured, a tall woman with broad shoulders, short curly hair, and a beautiful smile that is kind of hard to forget. On the green chalk board she asked us to complete a small “about me” work sheet so she could get to know us a little bit. Taking out a well sharpened pencil I answered each question like asked. After the whole class was finished, her sweet voice said “Every single child in this room is allowed to talk to me whatever your heart desires.” At first I didn’t trust her words. Until I was given permission from my gym teacher, to spend time with Mrs. B because of my medical condition. The first gym period with her I just spent time talking to her. We talked about my summer and how I felt when I had to have surgery.

Though before I knew it, it was class time again. Biting my pencil looking at the clock waiting for that subject to finish. But the only thing I heard was “Tick-tock tick tock” while the “Big hand” was frozen still not letting me know how much longer is left of the subject. One day we were learning about time. But when the test came I failed. I couldn’t understand time, I knew I was dumb. Because I was the only one in my class using a clock model to learn how long it took Tom to get from point A to point B. The more I hated learning the more I put pressure and frustration on myself hurting my brain. Mrs. B had to always simplify her explanation for me to understand. It would take me a while until my brain would click understanding the topic.


But the more time I spent with Mrs. B during gym the more I started to forget studying. Though sometimes when I had gym time with her, she would to some problems with me so I could become really good in that area. And even then I had handwriting like a first grader who was only six years old. To help me improve my handwriting Mrs. B would make me rewrite the names of the kids who lost their tooth until it was good enough for everyone to read. I couldn’t bare it any more. I knew I had to tell Mrs. B my problem because I spent more time with her than any other “normal” kid in my class. With my desk that was always messy, and Mrs. B encouraging me to clean it, my problems with learning, my sloppy handwriting all made me hate school even more. So that day has finally come. It was mid-January 2005 not many weeks after our winter break ended. I believe I asked her right after math ended, and all of the kids exited about recess right before lunch. We always had recess to shake of all of that energy that was stored in our little bodies. After the whole class escaped I walked up to Mrs. B. I asked
“Mrs. B I have something I want you to know about. A problem I had ever since I started second grade.” I saw a change in Mrs. B’s expression.
“Sure honey let me write you out a pass, before you go outside for recess. Remember to show it to the lunch maid.” Mrs. B said in a worried voice. So I found my coat and walked down the stairs to the cold wind of winter.

I was lucky to find an ordinary playground ball, right next to the bench I was sitting at. I just fiddled with the ball while the laughter of the children filled my frozen ears. I felt alone during those thirty minutes. When I heard the whistle blow I jumped of the bench and went inside the warmed up building, following my class mates. When I got to the lunch room I found the nearest lunch maid showing the crumbled pass, waiting for her nod as she let me leave the lunchroom. I went back outside to the frozen hands of winter. I came back to the warm classroom while Mrs. B was on the phone. I shuffled through the backpacks looking for mine. I finally found it, hanging my frozen coat next to it. I came back into the classroom in time when Mrs. B came of the phone. “OH my Rachel you scared me I didn’t even see you. You were as quiet as a mouse.”

“That is a metaphor right?” I asked
“No silly it is a simile. Now what is the matter sweet heart? It seems as if you are running away from learning.”

I felt as if some invisible monster grabbed my throat trying to suffocate me so I don’t say it. But it managed to come out. “I hate school, I hate learning, and I feel DUMB because I can’t LEARN!!” My face felt like fire because of my anger.

“Rachel honey it is okay to hate school. But it is not okay for you to hide your feelings. I once hated school did you know that?” My eyes widened.

“But you are a teacher.” I said.
“Yes but many nurses, doctors and teachers hated school. You could hate school and still become what ever you want. You see Rachel learning is a rainbow, the rainbow has a path on which you will follow as you grow older and smarter. And then you will see how beautiful learning really is.” I understood Mrs. B’s message. Learning is a beauty. Something that was given to us to cherish. It has been six years since I heard it last. And I still remember. Now there is a small mark in my heart that Mrs. B left. That small mark is the place that not one teacher would be able to steel. For not only Mrs. B shared an important message, but she also gave a piece of her heart to share with me. I now love school and learning. This story brought many memories and tears of joy as I wrote it. One day I want to become a teacher. And share this story. Mrs. B will always stay in my heart, for I will never forget the lesson she taught me. She was truly an extraordinary teacher.



Join the Discussion

This article has 2 comments. Post your own now!

writinglikecrazy said...
Apr. 2, 2011 at 9:17 am
That was a really nice story.
 
ekaterinahansingThis teenager is a 'regular' and has contributed a lot of work, comments and/or forum posts, and has received many votes and high ratings over a long period of time. replied...
Aug. 17, 2011 at 7:37 pm
I really loved it, I had a teacher like this. Any way I think it's hilarious that you commented on your own stories! I'm gonna do that on mine!
 
Site Feedback