When I was in third grade I had the coolest teacher ever. Her name was Mrs. Morgan and she looked like she was Charlie's fourth Angel. If Kelly, Jill and Sabrina were to be so lucky or so tan. She was a bronzered goddess -- a makeup product that I'm intimidated by to this day. She had Marcia Brady's hair, but in chocolatey brown and eyelashes that could scratch her eyebrows should an itch arise. But as much as I loved her Maybelline'd features, it was her platform wedge sandals that I coveted -- you know, the ones with cutouts in the heel. (It wasn't until 6th grade that my mom finally took me to Montgomery Ward and got me a pair of knee-high rust-colored boots with those same cut out wedge heels.)
Mrs. Morgan was my idol, my role model. She was nearly perfect. But somehow I managed to insult her anyway. And here's how one of my most regretful moments went down.
Scene: Elementary school lunchtime recess
Players: Mrs. Morgan, my friend Lori, me
Lori: You are the most far out teacher at our school.
Mrs. Morgan: Thank you, Lori. I think you girls are totally groovy too.
Me: What were you like as a kid?
Mrs. Morgan: I was friendly and liked to play outside.
Me: I bet your nose was smaller.
Mrs. Morgan: What???
Me: Oh, uh, uh... you know because you were a kid and ...um...everything about you would be smaller.
Mrs. Morgan looking perplexed, crushed, disgusted.
Me: Ok. Bye.
Exit to bathroom...or seesaw...or the moon. I just needed to keep on truckin' the hell out of there. I wanted to die, disappear and mostly shove those words back inside. How could something like that just slip out? Especially to and about someone my 3rd grade self worshiped? I had insulted the best, coolest, nicest person I'd met in the 9 years I'd been roaming the planet. I regretted saying it when it happened, but over the years, I mostly regret not apologizing. That's what haunts me.
I don't know if she ever thought about it again. Was she insulted or did she chalk it up to the adorable musings of a kids-say-the-darndest-things third grader? A few years ago, I heard she was retiring -- from my elementary school where worked all those years. I sent her an email telling how influential and trendsetting I always thought she was. I considered apologizing then, much like when an alcoholic comes to "that step", but ultimately decided if she wrote me back, I would address it in my reply.
Alas, my email went unanswered. I don't know if she got it or if she, perhaps, chose to ignore it. I regret not reaching out to her years earlier. Not so much to discuss the "debacle of '76", but to just see how things went for her. The grown-up me realizes it's unlikely she'd harbored a grudge for 35+ years, but as we all learned from the insightful movie "Hall Pass" -- words hurt. We also learned about fake chow, but that's a completely different post.
Well, I feel better. Do you have something you'd like to get off your chest?
No comments:
Post a Comment