Have you ever told the story of how another’s life impacted you?
Today? I’m thinking about Mrs Miller. She was my 3rd grade teacher. But more? like a mom to me at a time when my parents separated and later divorced.
I was 8…It was 1977 and nobody’s folks were divorcing at that time.
So it felt like I was dwelling off on some planet no one had yet visited (huh, some things never change..kidding! 🙂 🙂 )
Mrs. Miller was so gentle with me.
She would ask me how I was doing all throughout the day when it was just us (I think now she created those moments 🙂 ).
She let me stay after school and color and write stories I made up after I finished what I was drawing (I never had a plan. I always just colored and whatever the outcome was? i’d write a story for it…another thing that hasn’t changed too too much….:) ).
She didn’t judge or scold or tell me my way was backwards.
She let me chew bubble gum. Bubble Yum had just just come out that year. And it was after school so she bent the rules a bit.
She always smiled warmly and gave me hugs (it was 1978 and the world wasn’t frazzled about affection between teachers/students).
She didn’t go nuts about my stories or convince me i ought be an author some day or place false praise on an 8 yr old.
She just let me be.
And when i broke my arm that year (I was chubby….a boy pushed me down while chasing me calling me Tresha Tub of Lard….and I fell on my arm…he didn’t mean to. We were playing chase–girls against boys…but he was calling me names…oof.), she turned the tough awkward moment into a celebration.
She literally stopped teaching when I returned with my cast on and let the whole class sign and color my cast.
And she told everyone ‘think of a story after you finish coloring. That’s how Tresha does it.”
I loved Mrs. Miller. I still do.
She gave me a sense of home and family when mine was unpredictable. and remembering that today? makes me ask myself how i’m giving that same comfort and sans judgment to others..how i’m allowing someone else’s process steer….so long as it’s right for her or him.
Thank you Mrs Miller….for all of your tenderness, genuiness, and mothering heart.
May my tenderness with others’ footsteps be so real….