Morita Fever Grips Eagle Rock

Do you have Morita Fever? Or, as some would say, Morita Fevaaah! Similar to Beiber fever, it seems to strike only a specific demographic. That is, parents of children approximately six years of age living in Eagle Rock and its vicinity. And although many people are inexplicably immune, once you have contracted Morita Fever, there is no cure.

On Sunday, June 26, nearly 300 people were stricken by Morita Fever. They showed up at a retirement party to bid adieu to one of Eagle Rock’s most remarkable elementary school teachers: Carrie Morita. Mrs. Morita has taught at for 34 years. Tthe world’s first personal computer hadn’t even gone mainstream when she started out at ERE.

It is clear that I am infected with Morita Fever, and I can hear some of you sigh as if to say, ‘come on, what’s the big deal?’ But I’m reminded of the opening lines in the Kung Fu Panda animation film, in which Po (Jack Black) says, “ Legend tells of a legendary warrior whose kung fu skills were the stuff of legend.” 

There you have it—the legend of Morita. 

For me, Morita Fever started several years before my kids entered kindergarten at Eagle Rock Elementary. I’d be sitting around at a playground chatting with other parents, lamenting the dire straits created by the LAUSD’s dire budget and the high cost of private school, when time after time people would say things such as: “If you can get your kids into Mrs. Morita’s class, you’ll be fine.” Or: “No need to go to Artsy Tartsy Charter School if you can get Mrs. Morita.” 

My husband and I became believers and we politely, subtly—and sometimes not so subtly—lobbied to get into her class. Fortunately—for us at any rate—we were successful.   

Mrs. Morita was one of a kind. She told parents, including us, at our first Back to School Night, that LAUSD expects all kindergarteners to learn to count to 30 by the year’s end. Her students would learn to count to 100. That was just the beginning. My kids came home telling me about ellipses and syllables, Woody Guthrie and Martin Luther King, Jr. Mrs. Morita set high standards for her students. Without ever raising her voice or speaking down to them. 

Probably the most important thing Carrie Morita as a teacher was to suggest—and often demand—that parents participate in their children’s education. She had parents in the classroom helping with art, teaching music, preparing and receiving homework packets and on and on. She reminded us that parents really are the most important factor in our children’s success. She taught us to get involved.

Mrs. Morita wasn’t just active in the classroom. She would show up to her students’ basketball games. She taught them how to tango and cha cha. She promptly answered late-night e-mails. She showed us how to tie-dye. She inspired us to raise money for the school. She rallied parents and students to Walk for a Cure. She taught us about family values—the only Family Values that really matter.

In fact, on the last day of school, I heard Mrs. Morita tell her students that of all the things they had learned that year, the most important thing to take with them is “family values.” Throughout the year, our two kids never tired of reminding us that “littering is not good family values” or that “sharing is good family values.” You get the idea. 

I sometimes wonder where all of Mrs. Morita’s students have gone over the past three-plus decades. (Jimmy Carter entered the White House when Carrie Morita started teaching.) Turns out that many of Mrs. Morita’s former students have had children who have also been students of Mrs. Morita. 

What’s more, cousins and siblings and neighbors and parents are all bound by having been under Mrs. Morita’s tutelage. What's more, there are grandmothers who have spent years volunteering in Mrs. Morita’s class because their kids and grandkids passed through there. 

A few Eagle Rock Patch Whiz Kids are Morita alumni, including Taite Pierson and Alejandro Jimenez-Jaramillo, who was chosen as a U.S. Presidential Scholar and is off to Harvard this fall.

Mrs. Morita’s retirement party was held in a quite corner of Northeast L.A., a stone’s throw from Dodger Stadium. A surprising oasis of cascading waterfalls and ponds, surrounded by carefully laid stones, the venue is a tiny paradise in the middle of the Police Academy. (How it got there I have no idea, but I like it.) Add music, dancing, sushi and cupcakes, and you have the makings of a great celebration. 

A group of Mrs. Morita’s former students had practiced for weeks to perfect a hula dance for their Hawaii-loving one-time teacher. They gave warm speeches and sang lovely songs, made jokes and expressed their thanks for a job so exceedingly well done. 

Among Mrs. Morita’s devotees were S.J. and Matthew Selby, who had worked in her kindergarten class this year to teach music. Their final classroom project was a song, titled “For Good,” from the play, Wicked.

"So let me say before we part/So much of me is made from what I learned from you,” goes the song, sung recently at the last kindergarten graduation ceremony that Mrs. Morita presided over.

Farewell, Mrs. Morita. Enjoy your retirement. And come visit anytime.