My 6th Grade English Teacher

Do you have someone that has profoundly touched your life?

When I was in 6th grade, I had a wonderful English teacher named Mary McGraw. She was the most awesome lady! And I mean lady! She was a very prim and proper person. Every hair on her head was perfectly set. She wore fashionable, but serviceable dresses and skirts. She was kind, compassionate and loving.

She could walk up to the nastiest kid in the grade and smack a kiss on his cheek for no reason other than she wanted to. The nasty kid usually worshipped Mrs. McGraw from that day forward.

She would teach Shakespeare and have everyone in the room listening, attentively, without a single student falling asleep or rolling their eyes. I can remember her assigning parts of the Shakespeare plays to each of the students in the classroom to read aloud. Every single student would get an assignment to read a part at one time or another during the school year. I remember kids who never seemed interested in school, sitting on the edge of their seat with their hands raised in the air exclaiming, "Mrs. McGraw, Mrs. McGraw, pick me for that part! Ohhh, pick me."

I remember laughing so hard in her class sometimes that the tears ran down my face. I remember that anytime she shared a piece of her life with me, I felt special.

She was truly the kind of lady that I'd like to emulate. Unfortunately, I fall short most of the time. She believed in every single student that she ever taught. If she raised her voice, you sat at attention and listened!

Last year, during the athletic banquet for our school district, I learned something about Mary McGraw that I never knew before. Mary's son was being inducted into the Athletic Hall of Fame. He arrived in a suit with jacket. He was very distinguished looking and quite handsome. He got up in front of the hundreds of people at the banquet and starting reminiscing about the days that he played college basketball for Notre Dame.

He mentioned that his mother, Mary, went to every single high school and college basketball game that he ever played in. Mary had raised her boy all on her own as she had become a widow at an early age. He said she taught him more about teamwork and endurance than anyone else in his lifetime.

Mary was a true fan. She was a true lady...until she arrived at her son's basketball games. He said she hooted and hollered with the loudest. She banged on the bleacher and cheered at the top of her lungs. He said he thought he heard her 'boo' at one particular game, but he never had the nerve to ask her if she truly had.

Then he told how in college he played in a game versus Notre Dame's arch rival. Mary arrived at the game in her well-tailored skirt and blouse. She was watching her son out on the court, when out of the corner of his eye, he caught her swatting the young man sitting in front of her on the bleachers, directly on the top of his the head with her purse.

After the game, Mary took her son out to eat at one of the local restaurants. He asked her why she swatted the young man in the head with her purse. She said, "He called you a wimp and a shrimp. I heard him say you couldn't play basketball worth beans. I swatted him but good, then I told him that I was sorry, but that you were my son and I couldn't tolerate hearing that about you."

As her son told the story, we all laughed and reminisced along with him about what a great lady she truly was. She had a huge heart and she never did anything half way. It was a full force effort all the days of her life.

Mary has long since past away, but she will always be in my memory as a kind, caring, loving lady, who only lost her self control when someone called her son a wimp.