To My Third Grade Teacher

Mrs. C,

You were stern. Many people misunderstood you because of it. But soon into your language arts class, I understood that you truly wanted your students to succeed. Why?

You rewarded effort, over anything else. Some students flew through their work. They sat there at their desks, finished before anyone else, and were overly confident in their reading and writing abilities. But Mrs. C took note of their humility, or the lack thereof. The students who were never satisfied, who kept at it, were the students that Mrs. C was most proud of.

You were supportive. You were so proud of me when I won the spelling bee. At the final schoolwide competition, it was me against a student two years older than me. You rallied all of the 6th and 7th graders in support of me and I can hardly believe it to this day. I have never had a crowd of people rooting for me to win something. You encouraged students to make posters for me, you coached me after school on words that I didn’t have down yet. You were so sweet to me after I lost on the word “segue.” I spelled it s-e-g-w-a-y….yeah.

I just remember looking out at you in the crowd, you wanted me to win more badly than I wanted it myself. At one point I looked out at you, hoping you would help me. But you stood there tight-lipped and encouraging, silently telling me “You got this. Try your best and whatever the outcome, it will be ok.”

You were funny. Very few people caught your humor. But because of your usual serious disposition, it was that much funnier when you made some joke about monkeys. We didn’t expect it from you; it was always a delightful surprise.

You stood up for what was right. I had this other teacher who taught home economics who was clearly extremely racist. I can’t tell you how much trouble this teacher gave me. Luckily, I had friends who helped me through it. But more importantly, I had a teacher like Mrs. C, who could tell when I was having a bad day.

She didn’t call it out. She didn’t force me to talk. All she did was lend an ear when I needed it. She was understanding and kind. Mrs. C! The somber, stony, language arts teacher who got mad when any of us used the word “weird” as an adjective because there were “so many better words out there.”

It was the little things. Like when she would call me over to her desk, look me in the eyes, ask if everything was alright, and send me back if I wouldn’t talk.

She would ask me a question, and when it took me a little longer to answer, other students got impatient. But Mrs. C was ever so patient. She made me feel like there was real value in my thoughts.

Many students misunderstood her, indeed. It makes me sad that they didn't get to know what an amazing teacher she actually was. They saw her short blond bob, her glasses on a chain, and they dismissed her as a 2008 Karen who could only point out flaws in her students.

What she pointed out were flaws, yes. Followed with how to improve. She didn’t give out blind affection. She gave out tough love and brutal honesty. But just as brutal as her criticism was her support, her pillar of strength for her students who deserved it.

But if you made no effort in her class, you had no pillar. And those students will only remember Mrs. C as an austere educator. They will never know Mrs. C, the most caring, understanding, and kind teacher I have ever had.