Teacher Appreciation Week

Cause teacher
There are things
That I don’t want to learn
And the last one I had made me cry
So I don’t want to learn to hold you touch you
Think that you’re mine
Because it ain’t no joy for an uptown boy
Whose teacher has told him goodbye, goodbye, goodbye…

And teacher
There are things
That I still have to learn
But the one thing I have is my pride- George Michael

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What was George Michael singing about? Lord, have mercy… I think it depends on your own personal experiences with your “teachers”… At any rate on this teacher appreciation

Teacher Appreciation Week is a national holiday celebrated in United States of America which takes place in the first full week of May.

Date: Mon, May 2, 2022 – Fri, May 6, 2022

Remember the last day of school? That’s when all debts were reconciled. Kids used to “play nice” all through the year. The last day, usually May 15th was the hardest day of the year for teachers. The children would fight on this day because there would be no consequences. You would not get expelled because school was out for the summer. There was no teacher to call you to the carpet the next day. So all year teachers would pay attention to the subtle threats students would pass among each other. At the same time other “messy” students would make plans to stay after school on the last day to see all the fights.

I never did because “God hates feet in a hurry to see trouble.” Right?

In Proverbs 6:16-19 the passage clearly declares that God hates haughty eyes (a proud look), a lying tongue, hands that shed innocent blood, a heart that devises wicked plans, feet that are swift in running to evil, a false witness who speaks lies, and one who sows discord among brethren.

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All I ever wanted was peace. In my early childhood, there was none. However, by fourth grade something had changed. I would finish my work early and I was allowed to sit alone and draw. There was a special place in the back corner of the class where there were puzzles, coloring books, novels, etc… provided by my teacher, Mrs. Allard. She was a great lady. She was older and wore her hair in a bun. She was an older white lady teaching at an all-black school. She had been there teaching since the school opened in 1952. Twenty years later she was still there, and she was fabulous. I made B’s in her class so I was in the middle section of the room. She was the first teacher to really see me. She saw my personality, and my potential. That’s how my teachers described me. They said I had “potential”.

In the 5th grade, I had Mrs. Hubert. She was a social butterfly in the best way. She sponsored all the programs for the auditorium. She choreographed all the dances, chose the songs, showcased all the children with individual talents from public speaking, to singing, to playing piano or the drums. Then there were the decorations! Oh, my goodness! I used to just smile to myself as I watched Mrs. Hubert direct all the kids and listen to their ideas…I think my eyes twinkled with joy and pride. I was proud to be in Mrs. Hubert’s class.

In the 6th grade, I was assigned to Mrs. Nelson’s class. So on the first day of school I reported to Mrs. Hubert’s class. Mrs. Nelson came to the door and called out the names of the children who would be in her class for sixth grade. There was no sorting hat or houses but to be slated to a certain teacher meant something. Mrs. Nelson was all business and all the “bookish” children went into her class. I was quiet, kept to myself, never fought and pursued peace so Mrs. Nelson was to be my teacher for the next year.

I learned a lot and in the remainder of my time I pursued survival. I lived in a fog. I moved from one task to the next trying not to listen to what I shouldn’t hear and pretending blindness to things I should not see. I self-supervised, self-parented, self-protected my innocence and my own childhood. Mrs. Nelson was really quiet herself. She was always reading while we processed our lessons. I spent a lot of time crying in the rest room I suppose like moaning Myrtle but my worries were secrets even to me. I just felt melancholy. I didn’t know what Jr. High would bring. I lived my life in silence. “Children don’t speak unless they are spoken to” after all…

Anyway, every Friday there was a vocabulary test and that was the highlight of my week. As my graduation came I was quiet as usual. I expected to spend the graduation and the sock hop in the library while the rest of my class went to Hogsmead, just kidding… can you tell I love Harry Potter for my own reasons? J.K. Rowling is just fine with me. No one is perfect, no one on earth ever has been.

So, everyone was readying themselves for graduation day. I minded my own business keeping my head down and my mouth shut. Then it happened…

Mrs. Nelson called my name and gave me a graduation robe and cap. She then gave me a ticket to go to the sock hop. I remember following the rest of my class to enter the proper door for graduation. All the parents stood with pride written all over their faces for their juniors and princesses. I should have been shame because I had no family but I wasn’t. I was proud of myself. I was proud of my work. I had studied by myself, participated in class, cleaned the chalkboard, kept my desk nice and tidy. I also covered by books with paper bags so they were all nice and clean at the end of the year for Mrs. Nelson’s next bushel of students.

Finally, I was going to walk with my class and go to the dance for graduation. I expected to get my last report card where it would say what middle school I was to attend – that’s all. I would hurry home to avoid the last day of school fights and that would be the last time I would set foot on the campus of my elementary school.

It didn’t turn out that way.

Mrs. Hubert was there as the orchestrator of everything for graduation day as usual! At the sock hop guess what??

She taught me how to do the 4 corners and I have never forgotten even to this day.

To all the teachers who are real teachers: Elohim, bless and keep you always. Your kindnesses and unique qualities of excellence are appreciated!

#MrsAllard #MrsHubert #MrsNelson #BHGrimesElementary #Houston #Texas

Rot in hell forever Mary Katherine Letourneau and every destroyer of children like her. She was an American teacher who pleaded guilty in 1997 to two counts of felony second-degree rape of a child. The child was Vili Fualaau, who was 12 years old when sexual relations first occurred and had been her sixth-grade student at a Burien, Washington elementary school. Predator, Died: July 6, 2020, Des Moines, Washington, U.S. during the Covid-19 pandemic.