How Old Would You BeNow If?

My childhood was made-up of being kind of poor. By that I mean that everyone in the neighborhood was of the same financial category. So we really did not know we were kind of poor until I got to junior high school and saw all the rich girls at age thirteen with mouton lamb coats and cashmere sweaters. I had none of those. We could not afford that. However, I yearned for some of those material possessions, I was happy in the school. It was what was called an accelerated school choosing smart kids from all the elementary schools to attend it. It was called Robert E. Lee Junior High and its number was 49. So it became known as 49 and if you went there, you sure were designated as smart. You did not have to apply to go there, they chose you from the school you attended to be the recipient of their academic excellence. We did a three year junior high curriculum in only two years and therefore went to high school at age fourteen instead of age fifteen. We all did not have to compete for things there, because we were told we were smart and had to be so to even go there. It gives one a feeling of superiority and so I did not miss too much the elegant clothes that the rich kids had. They too had to be intelligent and have good marks, regardless of their mouton lamb coats and their cashmere sweaters; so I felt right at home with them. I had a fine homeroom teacher named Olga Virginia Bawden , she took a liking to me. She never married. She was a hard teacher, but a fair teacher. One day, she looked at my fingers and said “I want you to stop biting your nails. When I see you after Christmas vacation, I want to see some growth.” She had beautiful manicured nails, even in those days and I was scared not to listen to her. So during the two week holiday vacation, I dared not put my fingers to my teeth. When I came back, she looked and said “super.” The other kids were a bit jealous of her liking me , but it was ok. When I graduated high school five years later, I wrote her a note and said that my nails were still nice and I owed it to her for inspiring me.Funny things you can remember about a person. She had long golden hair and in class she wore it in a bun at the back of her neck. One day before class, I saw her with it hanging down her back and she had not put it up in the school teacher bun yet. She looked like a sweet and lovely young woman with her hair hanging loose and I could imagine her and her fiancé walking and talking with her hair blowing about. When she pinned it up, she became the stern French teacher who made us want to excel and speak French fluently. When I went to France with my husband twenty-two years later, I could still speak French and could read the menus, signs and newspapers very well. I often thought of the blond and stern teacher who taught me the discipline of no nail biting way back when I was twelve or so.I wrote her a note when I came back from France and told her about this. She replied that from the day she saw me way back then, she knew I had potential and she wanted me to have the long and pretty nails to display any awards I may win, because I had been a good writer in her class even in French. I did not remember being a good French writer but that was ok. I adored her for having faith in me and for choosing me as her 'pet' as they called it in those days, the kids that teachers especially liked. I did not need the mouton lamb coat or the cashmere sweaters to make me feel special. I had the respect and kindness of a delightful teacher who instilled in me, that you can do anything you want if you try, even having long and pretty nails. At age 81 now, I still have those pretty nails covered with the new sparkly designer polish that makes the nails noticeable, even though the fingers are a bit Arthritic now. Thank you Miss Bawden, you are surely remembered often when I look at the nails. This made me remember that when I was in the third grade, I was unfortunate enough to have a teacher named Miss Hodges. I had heard about her for many years, of her harsh manner, from my brother who was five years older than me and also two years ahead of his actual school placement. I remembered all those years that not to have her in your life was needed for a happy school year. In those days, you did not change teachers for different subjects; you stayed with your homeroom teacher for every subject they taught. Unfortunately, my brother’s warning and his friends too, did not help those of us who were doomed to spend seven hours a day in her room. She had a mean spirited manner and even when the parents went to the parent teacher meetings and had to interact with her; they too saw her unhappy manner. There was nothing we could do in those days, you dared not complain about her to the principal or anyone else except to your parents and they had no power to have you moved out of her domain. I silently obeyed her and did what she asked and counted the days as the other children did too, to have it over with. The difference between Miss Hodges and Miss Bawden, the French teacher was that Miss B. loved all children even though she had none of her own and Miss Hodges despised the kids and her teaching job. We all survived and even though some of the kids thought Miss B. a bit strict, when she smiled at you for accomplishing reading a paragraph in French, it was as if the sun was shining on a cloudy day. We learned to respect her, to adore her for her knowledge and most of all for treating us, as blossoming teens as real people. If you can light up someone’s face and eyes, it as if you are lighting a flame to your own soul. That expression is not one I am quoting from Shakespeare or any other person, they are my own words. My friends in Washington State, Steven Behr and Mary Petersen quoted to me in an email on my previous article called Happiness the following “How old would you be if you did not know how old you are?” This written by Walter Bortz who believes we are capable of living until one hundred years. Mary and Steve visited Hawaii almost yearly and have done this for twenty-seven years and Mary passed away a few years ago at 90. Now he goes with another lady Ikuko which will happen again shortly, as they arrive there to teach ballroom dancing to the residents. He says “ smiles, eyes that sparkle again, fingers and feet that are tapping and the creation of personal energy keeps us returning there. Many will share their dream of dancing once again and that is happiness. Please continue to share your wisdom, Elita, and the love of dancing with us all.” To sum this up, teachers like Miss Bawden and Steve outshine the Miss Hodges ones. We can all be teachers in our own amateur way by encouraging others to dance or to accomplish other happenings to enhance their lives. By doing that, we have given back to the community a portion of our self and we have enabled them to someday do the same to others. Mom always said she never saw a child like me, who did not have a lot of material possessions, who enjoyed giving some of them to other children who had less. I felt even then, that to light up someone’s face was making mine shine brighter too. Try it, if you can, in one way or another which suits your lifestyle or income, to light up something for others, regardless, if it only costs minimal money or time or even more. As Steven said the “creation of personal energy keeps us returning.” You will be returning to your heart and soul, the reward of tranquility and contentment. I kept in touch with Miss Bawden and one day when I was about 18, we met for lunch in a downtown department store tea room. Now we were adult to adult and she looked at my nicely manicured nails and she said "see I told you so, your nails, your potential and your caring personality." I hugged her and said" I love you Olga, you were what is called a teacher's teacher because you cared about all of us and I know especially me.She said I still do, elita sohmer clayman