Larger Than Life

Early yesterday afternoon, I received word that my first grade teacher had passed away in a tragic accident. As I fought back tears, for just a few minutes, I was transported back to her classroom, more than 20 years ago.

At the tender age of six, I thought she was an old woman, as she had steel gray hair and that was how I best judged age in those days. On the first day of first grade, I remember being somewhat scared, as I’d heard she was mean – after all, she was the one teacher who still kept a paddle in her classroom. I did know that she’d been my sister’s teacher, and since Jill had survived, I figured that I would, too.

What I didn’t know but learned throughout my year with her was that, while she could be stern and strict and ruled her classroom with somewhat of an iron fist, you would be hard-pressed to find a teacher who loved her students more. She was a relatively short woman (I’m guessing she wasn’t a bit over 5’2”), but she was larger than life. She played the piano and we sang at the top of our lungs. She read us books and we all listened to her as she gave life to the different characters. She introduced us all to the “super duper smiley face” and we all worked hard to have one of those placed on our assignments, as they were way better than ANY gold star!

The following August, when I moved on to second grade, I was sad – I’d loved my first grade teacher, but I knew it was time to grow up. I went on to have numerous other teachers, including those who were wonderful (Clara Margaret McCluskey) and those who were not so great (who shall remain nameless).

While I continued to grow up and finish out my elementary, middle, and high school education in Fredonia, any time I saw Ms. Harris, she greeted me with a smile. Even during my junior and senior years of high school, if she was in the grocery store where I worked, she made a point to say hello to me.

At the end of my senior year, when I had decided that I wanted to become a high school language arts teacher, Ms. Harris was still highly involved with the Fredonia Unified Teachers’ Association, from whom I received a scholarship. I received a card from Ms. Harris, along with a check for the first half of my scholarship, in May; in addition to wishing me luck, the card told me to come see her in December, once I had my first semester’s grades.

When I stopped to see her before heading back to college for my spring semester and showed her my grades, she didn’t denigrate me for receiving a “C” my first semester. Instead, she invited me in and asked me how my semester went and listened to my explanation of my “C”. She didn’t demand an explanation, as my grades still were high enough to retain my scholarship, but somehow, she seemed to know that I felt the need to explain. After several minutes, when I finally quit talking, she told me that she was proud of me, “C” and all. I also felt the need to tell her that I’d decided that teaching wasn’t my calling – and again, she was supportive and reassured me that I had a bright future, no matter what career path I chose. She handed me another check and told me to stay in touch.

I hadn’t seen Ms. Harris in several years, but her death still hit me pretty hard. As I read her obituary this morning, I discovered that she wasn’t quite as old as I thought all of those years ago – she was only 64 when she passed away. And even though she’d retired from teaching a few years back, she still was extremely involved in the community.

I don’t know much, but I do know that Fredonia has lost a giant. Rest in peace, Ms. Harris. I’m sure you’re somewhere playing jazzy tunes on a piano and singing your heart out.