Remember Me?

A few years ago I was perusing the obituaries in the Post when I came across the name of my kindergarten teacher. It had been forty years since our school year together but I remembered her well. She was short in stature, slim and in my five-year-old mind she seemed old to me. Reading about her death made me sad, but it also brought back the memories of her warm smile and gentle ways.

In first grade I had my first "nun experience." Sr. Boniface embodied all those terrible things you hear about the nuns of yore. My memory of her is not a good one. It involves a ruler swat to the hands after failing the weekly fingernail check. Good Catholic girls do not chew their fingernails. I didn't either, but apparently my mother was no manicurist. She called it nail trimming, but Sister saw it as nail biting.

I don't have memories of every teacher I've had. With the exception of Mrs. Graham, from kindergarten, the ones I do remember are associated with one memory, either clearly positive or clearly negative.

I'm sure there are students I've taught who hold no memories of me. No doubt there are good and bad memories as well.