Thank you, Mrs. Smith

When I was nine years old my family moved from Los Angeles County in California to a small town in Alabama. As a half-Colombian girl who loved and missed her Abuelita so much, this was a hard move for me. I was always happy to go to school when I was in California. I got to go to the "gifted" classes, I was totally obsessed with a classmate named Mario, and my third-grade teacher was a Sci-Fi geek (apparently I was, too). Our class was full of "Close Encounters of the Third Kind" and this new movie that was so awesome. You may have heard of it... Star Wars? I got to make my very own R2-D2 (well, my dad did). And our school had a great day of dancing and celebrating for Cinco de Mayo each year. School was awesome.

When we moved to Alabama it was a little different for me that first year. My teacher wasn't my biggest fan. She didn't like all of my ideas and talk about California. She wanted me to be quiet. She would "give me licks" on my palm with her ruler. I just always had something to share (I'm still like that, actually 😃). I remember my report card saying, in her best teacher cursive writing, "Monica is too talkative." 

Next year was 5th grade. That's a big year. You turn 11 in that grade. And my mom had a baby. Whoa. A big year. My teacher was Mrs. Smith. Thank goodness.

Mrs. Smith is a beautiful lady that seemed to love being a teacher. I can remember that she turned 50 that year. On her birthday I said, "Don't think of it as half a century, think of it as 'Nifty Fifty!' ". I remember that so well. She said she liked that and wanted to remember it so she wrote it on the board in her perfect teacher cursive writing. I felt really proud and I think I felt like she liked me. That wasn't the only thing Mrs. Smith did that made me feel like she cared. Once I cheated off my best friend during a spelling test. She was kind. I was glad Mrs. Smith didn't want to whack my palm with a ruler.

Another thing that she did was let me draw. She not only let me draw, she let me draw for my classmates. They would pay me a nickel or a quarter for a drawing of a funny looking elephant or turtle that used to appear in the back of magazines. If you're younger than 40 you may not know about those. Drawing was my past-time, even back in 1980. What was so great about Mrs. Smith was that she made me feel like I was good. My fourth-grade teacher didn't make me feel that way. 

I think about Mrs. Smith anytime I hear about teachers making school amazing for kids (a.k.a. Teach Like a Pirate). I am so glad that I had Mrs. Smith that year. I think she helped to make me who I am today, and maybe she helped undo what that fourth-grade teacher had done the year before. 

She let this doodler draw. She let this talker talk. She let this person who makes mistakes try again. 

Thank you, Mrs. Smith. I hope I can be like you for someone in my classroom. (By the way, she's still out there giving of herself at the age of 85! She volunteers at the hospital in that small Alabama town.)