We moved sometime while I was in first grade, and if we hadn't, I think I would have never liked or succeeded in school.
I did not like school.
The first teacher I remember is Mrs B, who was harsh.
One time I leaned over and asked the person next to me what she had just told us to do, because I didn't understand her dialect very well yet.
She whipped out a ruler and smacked my palms for talking in class.
She also spanked.
I kept my mouth shut and my head down and drew all over the back of my math papers instead of asking questions.
Then we moved.
I was terrified my first day at my new school, and terrified to meet the new teacher.
She had me at hello.
Like an angel, she swooped down at the door and hugged me tight and told me she was delighted to meet me - and her huge smile agreed with what she said.
This kindly, gentle teacher drew me out of my shell and taught me the love of learning.
Better yet, she helped me learn to love myself.
She loved and encouraged my drawings, but she also helped me with my math.
I learned there was a time and a place and a purpose for everything.
I had to repeat the first grade because I came to Mrs Lynch's classroom so very far behind, but it wasn't the stigma I am told it can often be.
I GOT to be in her classroom again!
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