A Visit to the President

Continuing the Blogging Challenge! May is almost over!! Today I am doing…

“Something someone told you about yourself that you’ll never forget (good or bad)”.

BlogEverday

A Visit to The President

“I touch the future. I teach.” ~ Christa McAuliffe

photo (16)When you are nine years old you are easily intimidated, easily impressed and very easily captivated. I was a typical fourth grader growing up in the 1970’s. Neil Armstrong had just taken his infamous walk on the moon the summer before on my actual birthday, July 20, 1969. Richard Nixon was President and the Beatles had just broken up.

I loved all things “girly”, still collected Barbies, but didn’t actually play with them. We read The Boxcar Children, Pippi Longstocking, and The Bobbsey Twins, and found library books by looking in the card catalogue.

Our class looked forward to the Bookmobile visiting the school once a week or so, that was such a treat! I can still see it pulling up the driveway of the old Smithville school. I remember climbing up the steps and can even smell the timeworn books and the inside of the old bus. The librarian would stamp the card in the back of the book with the date that it was due back…and then slip the card back in the pocket of the book. It didn’t matter if you had a stack of twenty books, she could fly through them in no time!

I adored hair ribbons of all kinds and had long, beautiful, golden-rod hair. I idolized my big sister’s clothes, she was the “coolest”.

Convinced all boys had cooties, I was only friendly enough to get by. I loved tether-ball and hop-scotch at recess but despised dodge ball and the creep that made it up. He should be shot. In the buttocks.

My teacher, Mrs. Berzens, was elegant and beautiful. She usually wore her hair pulled back in a gorgeous barrette, (except in this class picture of course). To me she just walked on air. I think at that young age every little girl wants to be a teacher. One of my best friends in the class, Beth, grows up and actually accomplishes it! Mrs. Berzens did make school something to look forward to every day. I loved it.

One day as we were sitting quietly writing our spelling words, Mrs. Berzens comes and tells me that I was wanted in the principal’s office. What? The principal’s office?! Me?! I had never done anything wrong in school in my life! I was the quietest little girl in the entire class. Really I was! I always did my work and never talked back to the teacher.

Mrs. Berzens assured me I was not in trouble, he just wanted to talk to me. Everything was just fine and to go ahead.

The President! I was going to see The President! My legs felt like Jell-O and my tummy was full of butterflies. I had passed him in the hallway and he had nodded at me before and even said, “Hello!” But I had never spoken to him face-to-face!

I made my way down the hall to Mr. Brinson’s office. I wasn’t afraid of him; he was a very kind man. Everyone loved and respected him. You knew he meant business but he was always fair.

The secretary took me right in and I sat down across from The President. He folded his hands and leaned forward and cleared his throat.

I thought I might throw up.

“Nannette, do you know why I have called you in here today?”

“No sir, Mr. President. I mean, no sir, Mr. Brinson.”

“Well, I have invited you here to honor you for your hard work and dedication. I would like to thank you for your four years of excellent academic accomplishment.”

And then he handed me the most beautiful certificate I had ever seen! It even had a big, gold embossed seal on it! Well, when you are nine it doesn’t take much to impress you.

I walked back to class as if I was walking on air. I had seen The President! Five whole minutes. I hadn’t just seen him, I had talked with him!

A kind man, a wonderful teacher, a good school and a lasting impression on a little girl.

No, I didn’t grow up to be a teacher, but I did keep some of those good values that were instilled in me from wonderful influences that shaped my life in those early years.

Memories are a wonderful thing.

photo (14)

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