Stalking my fourth grade teacher

My favorite teacher of all time was the one I had in fourth grade. I credit her with my love of reading and proving to me that despite what you are told: smart kids rock. She spoke in a soft voice. She read chapter books to us daily as she sat in a rocking chair and we were all glued to her every move. she encouraged me. She supported me. She made each of us feel special. That and she took us to the dairy up the street for ice cream.

I seriously love this lady. Love her so much that over the years she has been on my Christmas card list and I have even been known to send her a note during Teacher Appreciation Week, even after she retired. Upon both my high school and college graduations, I received a note from her. I still have both of them. Still the encourager.

So, when I spied her on the front row of a performance of "A Christmas Carol" I got so giddy that I had to introduce Cynical to her. We made our way to the door of the theater before she did, so we waited until she reached us and I made my move by introducing Cyncial to her. She even repeated Cynical's name to assure she'd remember it. See, isn't she cool?

I was still talking about Mrs. 4th Grade when we got home.

As we walked inside, this conversation followed:

Ragged: I actually got up the nerve to tell her once that she was my favorite teacher of all time.

Cynical: (Puzzled look.)

Ragged: And she got all embarrassed. Maybe it was because I stalked her like she was a rock star.

Cynical: Perhaps.