Are You a Teacher?

Very unexpectedly, many years ago, while I was on a bus on my way home after work, I was facing a set of lovely, wide open sparkling hazel eyes.

Those eyes were the inquisitive eyes of a little girl six to eight years of age. She was with her mother.

As I rose from my seat to leave and proceeded towards the door, she starred very intently and said to me, “are you a teacher?”. I smiled and replied, “No, I am not”. I looked into her eyes and my thoughts were…, “we are all teachers”.

I felt a warmth and tenderness from her question and I knew that she felt my warmth that I shared through my smile. As she smiled back and snuggled in her seat, her eyes followed me when I embarked through the front door, and passed by her window as the bus pulled away.

We both waved ‘bye and I felt so very good.

My childhood years were not happy years. I am one of ten children born into a poor family. My father was an alcoholic and he brutally beat my mother. His verbal abuse still haunts me.

I was about eight years old when my two older sisters left our Alberta farm and went to the Okanagan to pick fruit so they could earn some money. My parent’s farm was not a very productive farm.

My brothers also left home to work in BC, partly to earn money, but now that I’m older I’m sure they left to get away form our dysfunctional family.

When my sisters returned after the fruit harvesting, they brought me a gold ring with my birthstone for my skinny finger.

To-day, some sixty years later, I can still feel the warmth, the inner glow of being remembered. It was so special. I was special enough to be in their thoughts! Special enough to be in their hearts!

This was the first time I felt this way.

My mother had her own problems to contend with, and she had a drunk to deal with, so how could she remember to love me?

I put the ring on my finger and my heart cracked! We didn’t hug or kiss with thanks because we didn’t know how.

I ran outside into the yard and held my hands clasped with joy! I was deliriously happy. I hugged a tree with one arm and swung around and around and around! I dropped dizzy! I was completely breathless!

After a week of steady rain, the slough at the back of the house was filled to it’s brim, so to speak.

We used the water from this slough to was our clothes. It was our water source for watering the garden and to bath with. One morning, I waded into that slough. I often spent my days there trying to catch tadpoles and frogs.

The weeds looked tall and beautiful. The reflections of the trees were beautiful too. The sounds of the frogs and birds calmed my heart and the peace and tranquility helped me to forget the abuse.

It was my sanctuary.

I waded further into that slough and the water was much deeper, almost reaching my hips. For an eight year old that was deep!

I reached down to pull out a flowering weed. My thought was… “Hummmmmm…..if I can get the root, I can plant it and have a flower bed by the house”. I did not know what kind of a flower it was, whether it was a weed, hay, or grass was only to guess, as not one ever explained anything like that to me. To ask was to be told to shut up and to be ignored.

As I pulled on the weed, I looked to see if I had the roots. O yes! I had the roots. But I lost the ring!

It slipped off my finger and it was gone!

The depth of the water rose from the stream of my tears and became murky. I could not see the bottom. The ripples from the pulling of the root stirred it and I couldn’t see a thing. All I saw was dirty black water! I stood and cried and cried and cried some more. My heart cracked again. It not only cracked but it broke! My beautiful sapphire ring was gone! I lost it. How could I be so stupid? Why didn’t I take it off? Why did I need that weed? What would my father do to me now? What would my sisters do to me now? O course, I knew. They would all hate me forever. This is how it was in our house. A murky life like the dirty water! The loss of the ring was one emotion to deal with, but the guilt was a bigger issue by far. It was killing me. I ran out of tears. I had to find that ring! There was no way out. I did not dare move! I did not want to cloud the water even more.

“The ring has to be there”, I said to myself.

I waited for hours until the water was clear and I searched and searched not daring to take a step.

No ring!
It must have sunk into the muddy bottom or maybe it fell into the “hole” where I pulled the root.

I crouched down and focused my eyes on that spot. Nothing!

The tadpoles swam and wiggled around my ankles and my knees. I did not move.

“Surely the frogs don’t eat rings”.

The robins sang in the trees and the meadowlark made me cry again.

I must find it. I must”.

It was sunset and no one missed me. Evening shadows were falling on the slough. The thought of darkness scared me. I starred more.

I stood up to stretch my back and to wipe my eyes. The mosquitoes were sucking me dry.

“I will not leave”. The quietness overwhelmed me again and it became darker. More tears and more guilt made it impossible to see. Even the sunset rays scared me as they mingled with the evening shadows. My tears were drowning me, but I managed to crouch down so low that my nose touched the slough. Inch by inch, I twisted from side to side and back again making a complete circle, focusing out as far as I could see. No ring. The weight of the guilt became too heavy, and I though I died. I lost hope. “I have to. I have to”. Shaking and trembling, I focused on a ray of sunshine about a foot away to my left and…… there it was. There was my ring on the bottom of the slough surrounded by tadpoles and weeds.

Today, I remember this experience as a lesson in determination. This determination is a gift and I still recognize it as such. It gives me self-worth. The determination to survive, determination not to fail and determination against all odds. The dictionary defines determination as…stubborn, resolve, give aim, purpose or direction.

It is a quality of being earnest and decided, firmness, decisive force or power. This determination carried me through my teenage years and into excelling at school.

Years later, we left the farm and moved to a small town. I was in grade seven and I was super smart. My sister was in grade eight and in the same classroom, as was common in that day and era. One teacher taught both classes, shifting from one to the other.

Whenever the male teacher did oral question and answer periods with the grade eight class, I’d answer every question before anyone even raised their hand. I never raised my hand. I was totally out of line. I was very rude to say the least. I answered every question proving to be better and smarter…..always.

My sister often said to me, “you’d better shut up or you’ll get into trouble”. Well, she was wrong. I was never disciplined and I continued to speak out of turn and out of line. Mr. Teacher was very serene and he smiled a lot. He often clasped his hands and I still see his warm glances.

I had no friends and I was so lonely. Crying put me to sleep every night. I couldn’t understand why no one liked me. No one at home liked me either and my sister was embarrassed. The warm smile of Mr. Teacher was my only comfort. I continued to interrupt the class all year. Mr. Teacher never asked me to stop. He never indicated that I was out of line or that I was disruptive.

He watched and smiled.

When the school year ended and the report cards were handed out, everyone got theirs first and I was the last to be called. My heart was broken and once again I knew that no one cared, as usual. I held back my tears and finally I walked up to the front of the class to accept my report card. I was so scared I though I’d wet my pants. Instead of handing me my report card, Mr. Teacher stood and smiled, saying to the class, “I have a special announcement for all. Donna, (as I was called back then) has proven to be exceptionally able to skip grade eight. She will be entering grade nine in September. Congratulations Donna and good luck”. He clapped his hands and smiled even harder than I’d ever seen him smile before. The whole class room clapped too. Mr. Teacher’s smile was like that ray of sunshine that helped me find my ring so many years before! A guiding light! Because Mr. Teacher recognized my potential as capacity for accomplishment, I knew that it would be possible for me to have a good opinion of myself. Today I refer to this as self esteem. I thank God for Mr. Teacher. He gave me courage and I excelled in grade nine and I was the runner up for the Governor Generals award. At the end of grade nine my high school principal allowed me to enter grade eleven. I sailed through school and I was some one for the first time in my life. These teachers believed in me. From them I acquired a quality of mind which meets opposition with calmness and firmness. This is referred to as “courage”.

I define happiness as enjoyment and giving, or indicating pleasure. Along with this happiness comes complete gratification or satisfaction.

To be happy primarily refers to something that comes “by good hap”, a chance that brings benefit or success. Happiness is a grace of blessedness that spreads out form your centre and radiates as a light from the sun! In my mind, I hold a Regal Portrait of Mr. Teacher. Those memories of kindness carry me through my life to day and will for the rest of my life. I have been inspired to believe in dreams. Some of my dreams are simple pleasures such as having my grandchildren teach me to roller blade at age 65. They inspire me when they say to me, “I love you a lot Gramma”.

My passion is to help children. They are of special interest to me. I want to give to them what my teachers gave me, and that is….trust, inspiration, guidance and happiness.

Like that little girl on the bus, I look children in their eyes. I smile and I hope that I radiate warmth. Subconsciously, I am drawn to children and extend friendship, peace and self worth by my actions. When I talk to them I smile into their eyes, just as Mr. Teacher did. I listen to their questions and I bend down to their level. I know there is an answer to everything!

I do this in grocery stores, at bus stops and on the street, everywhere I can. I hope I am the booster shot of strength and determination and courage as it is needed.

Are you a teacher?