A classroom moment

"Do you actually remember the name of your second grade teacher?" asked my sister, Peggy.

"Sure," I said. "Mrs. Branker. I remember all of my elementary school teachers’ names — except the third-grade teacher."

"What happened in third grade?" Peggy asked.

Hmmm … Peggy picked that up quickly.

"It was honestly kind of weird. The teacher had a construction paper dinosaur with a happy face and a long tail on the classroom wall. It was bright green with big black spots. I really liked it. At the end of the school year, I asked to take it home. She said yes and I was so excited. The problem appeared as I watched her carefully take it down.”

How will it fit in the bedroom I share with my sister? I thought. It's way too big. How will I carry it home?

I tried to fold it, but didn’t want creases in it. Finally, I had an inspired third-grade idea: I tore off both feet with their colorful claws, and the smiling head. It didn’t look the same, but you could still tell it was a dinosaur. I hoped it would be okay to tape the pieces to the bedroom wall … but I could figure that out later.

I slid the oversized feet and decapitated, dino-head into my notebook so I wouldn't lose them. I really liked the tail but it didn’t look right without the body so I threw it into the wastepaper basket, along with the dinosaur’s torso.

We were packing up books for the day when I felt someone standing by my desk. I turned to see my teacher with a sad expression on her face, and shaking her head.

"Why did you ask for the dinosaur if you didn't want it?” she said, pointing to the colorful, torn, prehistoric scraps in the trash.

I realized that it looked like I had thrown away what I had passionately asked for that morning. I felt her disappointment at the same time I felt my own embarrassment and confusion. Why doesn’t she understand? I’m too little to carry the entire dinosaur, but I want to hold on to a piece of her wonderful class and this exciting school year.

“And, Peggy, it was such an incredible year! We learned how to write in cursive and my handwriting improved dramatically. I dreamed about traveling to Japan because of our successful group project. I even delayed getting glasses one more year! (I memorized the order of the letters on the eye chart as classmates with last names from A through W repeated the same pattern again and again.) The teacher taught songs during class sometimes, and you know I love singing. That's where I learned the song I taught you for the 'Stump the band' segment of the Johnny Carson show."

Peggy interrupted.

"The 'In The Winter’ song?"

"Yes."

We laughed and sang the entire song I had taught her as a child.

"You remember!"

"Of course, I do!" Peggy said. "We used to practice so we could sing it and win money if we were ever part of the Tonight Show audience."

"That's right." I smiled.

"Okay," Peggy said. "What happened then?

"I knew the teacher couldn't see the thoughts in my head, but I didn’t have the words to explain my new plan to tape the dinosaur pieces to the bedroom wall. I loved her class, and thought she understood me like family. You know in our family, we didn’t explain things out loud.”

“Not much,” Peggy agreed.

“I couldn't believe she thought I would ask for the dinosaur to intentionally throw it away. I thought teachers were like parents and knew everything. Even if she didn’t understand, I thought she should know somehow. I felt like crying … or kicking something.” My body grew tense and rigid with the memory. “I didn’t like her anymore, and just wanted the year to be over.”

Anyway … the class finished cleaning up early. The teacher let everybody talk until it was time to line up. The wall clock near the door caught one classmate’s attention.

The student asked, "Mrs. Blah blah blah,” (I really did forget that teacher’s name), “When are we going to learn how to tell time?”

"Next year,” she said. “In the fourth grade. You guys are so smart you can probably tell time already. But you don't know it yet."

While we waited for the bell to ring, she taught us one last lesson. She explained how the keys to telling time were the long hand and the short hand on the face of the clock. My classmates nodded as understanding dawned. It made sense.

The teacher looked over her class proudly and her glance came to rest on me.

"You are some of the smartest students I've ever had. You can learn anything."

We all looked at each other. Several students smiled. A few giggled.

The hard place around my heart started to crack a little as the bell rang — but I tightened the grip on my belongings to hold on to those hurt feelings. The teacher wished each pupil well on their way out. As I moved closer to the door, I watched her feet instead of her face, but felt her eyes on me.

"Have a good summer, Stacey," she said.

I didn’t look up, but mumbled on the way out.

"You, too.”

As I walked down the hall, I spoke softly to nobody. “Good-bye, teacher.”

I watched Peggy’s eyebrows rise as she thought.

"I don't remember a dinosaur in our room,” she said.

"When I got home, I threw the dinosaur’s head and feet away. I didn't want them anymore.
I think I forgot the teacher's name on purpose."

"Oh,” Peggy said. “What grade were you in, again?"

"Third grade," I said.

"So … that was about 20 years ago," my sister said.

She paused for a moment.

"Don't you think it's time to let that one go?"

Artist’s statement

One of the incredible staff members of Writers.com shared a prompt to write about the “person who helps you see.” My sister often asks questions that help me see myself — and my circumstances — more clearly, even when I don’t want to. Thanks, sis.