photo: Vicky in 4th grade
Fourth grade was a monumental year for me. It was the year I first realized that boys were cute, that boys were spectacular, and that boys were delicious. During fourth grade, I also came to the heartbreaking realization that simply willing my breasts to grow was an exercise in futility.
Mrs. Hufford was my fourth grade teacher and I swore she was already 95 years old when she taught me. Famous for her line, "Shape up or ship out!" Mrs. Hufford had the most beautiful handwriting I'd ever seen. Her flowing letters graced the blackboard like ballerinas pirouetting across a stage. She told my mother that year during parent/teacher conferences, "Vicky is doing just fabulous in all her subjects, but her handwriting ..." her voice trailed off as she shook her head. After I left my grade school, I never saw Mrs. Hufford again until I attended a recent 80th birthday party for a good friend's mother.
There she was - Mrs. Hufford in all her Queen of Handwriting royal gloriousness--standing by the church doors. I whispered to my husband, "It's Mrs. Hufford ... I can't believe it!" My husband encouraged me with a gentle push, "Go say hello!" he said.
I walked up to her, smiled, and reached for her hand. I grasped it tightly and said, "I'm Vicky from your 1971 fourth grade class!" She smiled back and I knew she didn't remember me ... that is, until I described myself. "You know .. I was the girl with Frankenstein hair and black cat glasses?"
"Ohhhhh yes!" she said smiling wider, "Vicky Harling!"
I immediately came clean as if she were a priest in a confessional, "Mrs. Hufford, I still have bad handwriting!" She laughed. Still wanting to please her after all these years I said, "I am a writer now."
She clapped her hands in excitement, "Oh, I love it!" she exclaimed. "I just turned 100," she added.
One hundred years old. Can you imagine? Mrs. Hufford looked and acted just as she always had.
Classy. Smart. Pretty. I was thrilled to be in her presence again and jumped at the chance to help her with her lunch in the buffet line. After I helped Mrs. Hufford sit down and brought her a cup of coffee, I had a friend snap our photo. For just a few moments, I was transported back to a simpler time when the world revolved around whether or not Grant Gier sat next to me at lunch or not. Most importantly, I had a chance to tell a teacher how much she meant to me, how much I admired her, and how I had never forgotten her.
What a great moment for both of us.
A good teacher is like a candle--it consumes itself to light the way for others.
--Author Unknown--
- Vicky De Coster - www.wackywomanhood
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Vicky, now that's a spirited woman. You've made me determined to visit my 100 year old math teacher (who currently lives with her 98 year old sister)next time I'm in her area. It's so inspiring to hear about women of a great age who still have all their faculties.
Posted by: valerie baxter | January 16, 2009 at 10:31 AM
Vicki what a wonderful post. All too often teachers are not given the full credit they deserve. How nice that you were able to share with your teacher all these years later, the influence that she had on your life. I am sure that every Spirited Woman out there could name at least one teacher that she wishes she could meet again to thank him or her.
Your fellow blogger,
Dawn
Posted by: Dawn | January 10, 2009 at 07:32 AM