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The Teacher We Remember (standard:non fiction, 320 words)
Author: CyranoAdded: Nov 01 2014Views/Reads: 821/0Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
A reverie of childhood
 



The teacher we remember. 

I remember sitting in the classroom at school, I was maybe ten years
old, looking out across the bay, daydreaming. I was never interested in 
Math, and even less in Latin, but I was interested in the sea and all 
those places beyond the water's edge. Ms. Cullen, a round faced, kindly 
teacher who wore her hair short, told a story how Columbus rediscovered 
the ‘New World', she also said I shouldn't stare out the window so 
much. Adventure was everywhere, but the greatest adventure was running 
to catch the school bus and taking the ride down the Sound of Mull on 
our half hour trip to Craignure, where I boarded the ferry, sailing to 
Oban, on the mainland, heading for school. 

While other kids sat in the warmth of the ferry's canteen during those
blustery winter morning journeys, with threatening rain clouds low over 
the waters, I stood on the bow, letting the sharpness of the wind crisp 
my ears until they felt like ice packs on the side of my head. Hurting 
so much I entered the classroom crying with pain, tears streaming down 
my face. Ms. Cullen would shake her head, grab my hand and pull me down 
the corridor to the school's boiler room. ‘Read this,' she'd 
say...thrusting an adventure book into my hand...‘come back to class 
when you've thawed out,' but never left without first handing me a 
chocolate bar and offering a soft palm across my floppy scalp. I was a 
ridiculous kid. She said that, too, with the hugest, most forgiving 
smile on her face. 

I learned, many years later, now living in California, that Ms. Cullen
is still teaching, encouraging her hopeless students to become better. 
How we pupils love her, never wanting to leave her class, and me never 
wanting to be anything but the boy to whom she first gave a chocolate 
bar for his stupidity. 


   


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