Life as a Fourth Grader

Here we are in 1966. That's me on the left, Dad on his 10-speed bike that he rode to Naval Postgraduate School every morning, http://www.nps.navy.mil/nps/ , Geoff in his little seat on the handlebars, and Leah on the right. I hurt myself numerous times trying to ride that 10-speed bike. I was forever desperate to look grownup and hoping someone was noticing.

We were living in housing furnished by the Navy in Monterey, California. I was in 4th grade at La Mesa Elementary School. I remember my 4th grade teacher, Mrs. Jones. She was from Japan and made a point to share aspects of her culture with us - rice balls, painting Japanese characters with ink and a paintbrush, and making charcoal still-life drawings of the trees outside our window (she took us outside for this!).

I remember a school day when my mother woke up with a migraine headache so severe that she was forced to keep me home from school to take care of my little brother. When Mom finally started to feel better, the school day was over.

I went outside to play and Mrs. Jones drove by in her V.W. van, stopping in front of our apartment building. I just knew she was going to ask what I was doing outside...playing...if I'd been too sick to come to school that day. But that wasn't her style. She simply asked me if everything was alright and said that she had missed me that day. I explained why I had stayed home, and she told me how proud she was of me and how lucky my mother was to have me there to help her.

I felt like a million bucks after that and couldn't wait to tell Mom what Mrs. Jones had said.

I aspire to be a teacher like Mrs. Jones. I hope that I can always be aware of how my words and actions may effect the feelings of the dear students I am so fortunate to teach.