Bag of Tricks

Growing up in L.A. during the 60s taught me the value of illusion and how insular my world was. Almost everything I believed and trusted has been slowly purged from my consciousness in the decades since. The late 60s were amazing from my perspective. The music alone was enough to occupy me and in 1968-69 I had a teacher who unscrewed the top of my head and opened my mind to an invisible world beyond the concrete barriers of sense. I loved this teacher and had no clue that I did at that time because I was her foil. I hated her at times. She "picked on" me. I spent more time in detention with her than all of the other seven grade school years combined. She found faults in me that amaze me to this day. I would argue with her about silly little things on a constant basis for no other reason than to be her opposite. I would show her. In retrospect, I have never been so wrong about a person in my whole life.

Two things happened that year in Miss Brunner's 6th grade English class. The first was alluded to earlier and, with the exception of the many elective and extra curricular activities of high school which I loved, those were the most enjoyable days I have ever had in a classroom as a student. It was towards the end of the school year when she introduced a unit on figurative language and my mind forgot that I resented this tiny little red haired teacher and I discovered a spectrum of colors in the written word. I hung on her every utterance. Then, the unit ended and we went back to tenses or pronouns or some other equally "exciting" lesson and I resumed my role as Loki to her Thor.

Which brings me to the second event. I don't know to this day if she planned it or not but she trapped me with my own bravado. I don't even recall the nature of the argument but at one point she issued a challenge to me she knew I could not decline no matter how abhorrent. Pride, peer pressure, face, and , yes, honor were at stake. All the cards were on the table. She offered me the "chance" to prove how "easy" her job was by assigning me a day to teach in place of her. Her prey fell into the trap with ease and I spent the next few days preparing for my day in the sun. I have completely blacked out all memory of the lesson I taught except to note that it was the happiest I had ever seen her. Sitting in my desk and smiling while I suffered through the agony of my fall and the loss of my soul. She stopped me about half way through and gave the class free time. As I was erasing the chalk board she came up to me and told me that I did a good job and she gave me one of her bookmarks with a gold star on it.

I wish I could see her now and tell her "Thank You." Instead I will gaze at the stars and remember her for what she is still teaching me.