Most articles I have seen about favorite teachers are written about one they had in high school. Although I did have a favorite teacher from those years as a teenager, the teacher who set my stage of learning for the rest of my life was my 5th grade teacher, Mrs. Worthsmith.

The first time I saw Mrs. Worthsmith was when I was in 4th grade on the playground. She was standing in the shadow of the school building with several students around her. She had chestnut brown hair with a wide streak of white that started in the middle in front to just past her left eye sweeping back into her hair toward the crown. To a 4th grader she wasn’t a little person. In actuality, she probably stood at about 5’ 7” and weighed about 150lb. That particular day she was wear what it called a tent dress. (This style only lasted one season.) What I found so astounding was the colors and pattern of the material of her dress. Her dress literally looked like the tarp used for a circus tent. The main color was a rich yellow. The strips were the other primary and secondary colors. What teacher would wear something that stood out from everyone else? Mrs. Worthsmith, that’s who. During the next couple of months before school let out for the summer, I found out from friends who had older brothers and sisters that either you were a student who loved her or you were a student who hated her. There didn’t seem to be any no middle ground.

My elementary school was big enough so that two teachers were assigned to grades 1 through 4 and 3 teachers were assigned to grade 5 and 6. All summer long I was oblivious to who my teacher would be. I was too busy playing. In August, just 3 weeks away from when school would start, my parents got a letter from the school saying who my teacher would be. When the letter was handed to me that evening, all I could think was that my 5th grade year wouldn’t be boring anyway.

On my first day of school as a 5th grader, I charged up the steps of the south entrance, walked through the hall of the 1st and 2nd graders, and pushes the metal doors of the stairwell to the second floor. When I opened the metal door of the second floor, I could see the doorway of the 5th grade class room of the French teacher (never did not her name). Just to the right of that door was the doorway to Mrs. Worthsmith’s classroom. I walk in seeing that only three other students were there and Mrs. Worthsmith was not. I chose the seat with the attached table in the middle row one chair back from the front.

Slowly the room filled with the other students. In the mist of them was Mrs. Worthsmith dress in brown tweed looking like school marm. She asked me what my last name was. I told her, “Roth.” She said, “ You were almost right. Move one chair to the left.” That is where I sat until June of the following year.

The next two days were spend being assigned text books, going over school regulations, and learning Mrs. Worthsmith’s class rules. On the third day she told us to get out our social study books and turn to the sixth chapter. She, then, announced as she handed out long narrow strips of construction paper that this would be the only chapter we would have to learn until March of the following year. I stared at her in disbelief for about a minute, saw that she wasn’t fooling around, and then reverted my eyes to my book again. The chapter title said Kenya.

As it turned out, not only was our social studies lessons just about Kenya, but also our math lessons, English lessons, Spanish lessons, art class, and all spelling words. The only breaks from all this stuff about Kenya were when I went to the music room, to my gym class, and my science class. Those who were taking French got an extra 45 minute break from Kenya.

Why was she fixed on Kenya? That summer before school had started, Mrs. Worthsmith had actually been to Kenya. She had even made a trip up to the top of Mount Kenya. When my brother had her for his 5th grade, he learned about Portugal in the same way because that‘s where she had gone the previous summer..

In February , Mrs. Worthsmith conducted an assembly for all of the students of the school. During the presentation of slides showing Kenya, her students who were in her Spanish class told the audience about Kenya in Spanish. Her students that were taking French interpreted the same speeches into English. Our art work was shown in the main lobby of the school.

This wasn’t the only thing unusual about Mrs. Worthsmith. If it had been, only the ones like me who truly loved school would have liked this teacher at all. This lady’s mission was to make the learning experience as enjoyable as possible.

The tent dress I had seen her wear the year before was just a hint of what fun this teacher could be. Most elementary school teachers get dressed up for Halloween along with the children. Mrs. Worthsmith not only wore her witch costume but also dyed the white streak in her hair orange. When December rolled around, she dyed the streak blue. For Valentine’s Day, she walked into the classroom with a pink streak in her hair. Of course, for St. Patrick’s Day, Mrs. Worthsmith’s famous streak was green. At the end of the school year, she dyed it yellow. I never did find out the reason for that one.

In March, as Mrs. Worthsmith has promised, our days became the same as everyone else’s in the school. We studied the other chapters in our social studies text book, did the story problems in math, and constructed sentences in our English class.

Mrs. Worthsmith was and still is the inspiration of my unquenchable thirst to learn and to find pleasure in whatever I do. I hope everyone has a teacher like her. I was clearly one of the students who loved her.

Copyright 2008 Glynis J. Jolly, All Rights Reserved

When I went to do my weekly grocery shopping last time, I also bought a birthday card for my son’s girlfriend. When I got in line at the checkout, the woman in front of me casually asked me who the card was for. When I told her that I just liked the girl my son was so interested in, she looked at me with a puzzled look on her face and asked why I would spend so much money on someone who wasn’t a relative or my close personal friend. Don’t think too badly of her. She isn’t the only one who feels this way. With the cost of greeting cards soaring up to as much as $7.95 each, people are rethinking how much their friends are actually worth.

Although giving greeting cards for special occasions has been around since the time of the ancient Chinese and Egyptians, until the late 19th century, only the rich and royalty could afford them. Back then, each greeting card was handcrafted and different than any other greeting card. Even when cards became more affordable because of cheap ways to do color print, you wouldn’t see a clerk or farmer buying one. Only landowners and merchants were added to the group who were buying such trivial things. It wasn’t until the 1930s, when color lithography was developed, that the society at large started purchasing greeting cards. I found this somewhat ironic seeing that this was also the time of the Great Depression. Somehow, this way of expressing one’s feelings towards another became important.

During the prosperity years, this gesture of good wishes grew to one of a largest business. By the late 1960s, people were a giving greeting card for the neighbor next door whose dog has a litter of puppies. People seemed to be obsessed with spreading good cheer and condoling those who weren’t happy for whatever the reason. This seemed quite odd to me because of how unpopular the Viet Nam War was. Nevertheless, the greeting card business was growing and was even creating cards that didn’t have any special meaning at all.

Sometime during the Corporate years of the 1980s, the exuberance to spread good wishes started to dwindle. Was it the economics of President Reagan’s term (Reaganomics), or was it just that people had become self-absorbed? In my opinion, it was more of the latter. The “Me Syndrome’” had become the popular pastime for all of society. If your friend bought a BMW, you just had to have a Mercedes.

Society stayed this way for the most part up through the 1990s. Somehow the greet card industry held on. I saw more and more cards that were blank on the inside giving people options for occasions. The greeting card shops had begun to expand in the 1980s to include small gifts and knickknacks and by the 1990s had some of the largest stores in the malls. Unfortunately, most people shopping in these establishments were buying for themselves or buy cards and gifts to impress someone. Love was low on the list of priorities.

When the 9/11 tragedy hit, it also struck a nerve in people around the world that made them start paying more attention to their neighbors, friends, family, and even strangers. Today, you not only can buy greeting cards to give to the ones you care about, but you can also send e-cards by email. The gesture of good wishes isn’t dying in my estimation but it is changing.