Remembering Elementary School has many mixed memories for me, but I was lucky to have one special protector who motivated me to become a teacher in her nurturing image: my Grade 2 teacher, Mrs Mathewson.
The year leading to Mrs Mathewson is a corrupted film reel of fleeting memories with the occasional clear image. The story begins with hesitation. For the first two weeks of September 1980, my mother tugged me to Stamford Green School. I was a shy, quiet boy, reluctant to leave the company of my only friend: my younger brother who still had a full year at Play School. Going to Reception Class (Kindergarten) felt like being thrown to the wolves. In reality, it was a blur of alphabet songs, basic mathematics, singing around a piano with an elderly female teacher whose name I sadly can’t remember. I have a faint sense of lonely hovering in the playground. Having already learned to read, and with books an easy form of escape, I soared ahead of my peers. This led the school to take an unusual decision: I skipped Year 1 entirely and was dropped into Year 2 and Mrs Mathewson’s class. Being tossed into a class without friends and with peers much bigger and more confident than me was traumatic. I had to be dragged to school again, crying and pleading to go home. Luckily, Mrs Mathewson provided me with one of my first enduring memories: cuddling me in her teacher’s armchair and privately reading with me while the rest of the class busied themselves in lessons that I would eventually catch up with. I spent the next two years with Mrs Mathewson, under her special care - her undersized book-loving favourite who slowly found the words to talk. I’m sure Mrs Mathewson would not have permitted the mockery of my surname that I remember starting in the class after her. A couple of years ago, my mother met Mrs Mathewson in Epsom, our home town. Now a happily retired grandmother, she recognised my mother and quickly recalled me. She was delighted that I had become an Elementary Teacher. I hope to be remembered as fondly as I remember her.
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AuthorA poetic-essay style blog with a limit of 365 words. 365 like the days of the year - my name being one of those days! Archives
March 2020
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