There's a small brick house I visit from time to time. It's not the house that is special, but the person who lives inside.
I met Miss White about forty-five years ago when she was my sister's kindergarten teacher. I remember wishing I was her student. Miss White created a safe place where we could be whatever we wanted to be at that moment. My parents promised me I could start school when I was 4. Though, when I turned 4 in spring, I couldn't understand why I had to wait until September.
When I graduated, I became a teacher. I couldn't wait to invite Miss White to my classroom. She arrived one day, and I saw joy on my students' faces singing the same songs I sang with her as a child. As a new teacher, I was amazed by how she connected with children for years. Miss White volunteered in my classroom.
Over the years we have shared with each other's ups and downs. She asks me about my family and friends, and she tells me about hers.
I am here for her now as the time to sell her house is near. I bring up boxes from her basement(地下室). We look through every painting a student has given her, every thank-you note a parent has written and her teaching aids (教具).
I find my own name printed in green marker. Suddenly, my mind goes back to Room 3.
More than 40 years ago, Miss White sat on a chair while my classmates, and I sat on the carpet (地毯) at her feet. We learned about the letters and their sounds. Now, Miss White sits on her rocking chair (摇椅), and I find myself sitting at her feet. Over tea, we talk for hours. I listen carefully because I know I still have more to learn from her.
Our friendship is one that neither one of us expected. Making friends with your favorite teacher is truly a valuable gift.
