Wednesday, March 2, 2011

Hindsight: First Teacher

I have a fond memory of my first day in school… as a kindergarten kid. I remember my teacher wore a very nice and sexy dress that looked like it came out from a fashion magazine. She wore her thick, back hair long. It was so long and I think it was longer than the dress she was wearing. It was the seventies and the fashion trend that time was hip – women either wore a mini dress or hot pants, they are either strutting in maxi and platform soled shoes or knee-high boots, and they either matched their outfits with sunny attitude or a “peace-man” neck piece or brooch. But other than that, I remember too that I had fun doodling, writing, singing, playing and making friends in kindergarten school. And of course, I also remember that… I graduated [after a year] with some honors.

But I don’t actually remember how I learned to write my long names straight and tidy… how I was able to read other words aside from “apple, banana and cat”… and how I was able to do the “math” in kindergarten… but one thing for sure, I remember that when I entered school I can already identify shapes… know the different colors of the rainbow… can tell time… can recite tons of nursery rhymes and can sing a lot of nursery songs.

I have a fond memory of my “very first” day in school and I have a very vivid memory of my “very first” teacher too. My very first teacher wasn’t wearing hip trendy dress. She was in fact, wearing a nice, clean and fresh smelling house clothes that she made herself and that I loved snipping everytime she would come near me and guide my tiny fingers to properly hold that big black pencil as I wrote my name. I love the feel of my very first teacher’s warm hug as she read to me my very first book while sitting on her lap. And I love the sound of the tapping of that ruler as my very first teacher pointed at the different drawings shapes on the mini chalkboard. And oh how I love the smell of my very first school as my very first teacher finished up cooking the meal of the day while I was finishing up with my school work of the day.

My first day of school was not actually in the real classroom. My first day in school was actually in our living room just across the kitchen. My first school desk was actually the center table of the living room furniture just across my first teacher’s sewing machine. My very first teacher was not a real teacher at all. My very first teacher was in fact, a dressmaker. My very first teacher was actually my mom and she was also the very first teacher of my two brothers.

I have a fond memory of my very first school and my very first teacher. I remember how happy it was learning with my two brothers. It was chaotic but always fun. It was serious but always prolific. It was indeed didactic but always homey. My siblings and I learned almost everything before we actually went to school. But the most important lesson I learned from my very first school and my from my very first teacher was – to stop and smell the roses.


Ruthilicious... absent in the Classroom, present in the Chatroom. She blogs when she is NOT Facebooking doing chores and she blogs while she is ALSO Facebooking doing chores.

To read more about her Teaching-Learning Experience... Click HERE.


kulasa said...

hahahahaha, enjoyed reading sis!

Judy Sheldon-Walker said...

You could be describing my mother. Loved this! God bless!

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