Speaking of school starting...

I've always had a great admiration for teachers, and I was very fortunate to have had really good ones.  Today, I was thinking about one in particular (I'm sure I've written about her before), Mrs. Gross, in 5th grade; red head who drove a Cadillac convertible.  I loved watching her drive into the school parking lot each morning, a scarf billowing and her red hair bouncing all over her head.  She became an enigma to me from day one.

Mrs. Gross had a deep spirit within her that matched her flamboyant lifestyle. She was a great teacher in all subjects, but, excelled in her passion - teaching music and art. Not being very musically inclined myself, it was only by a sheer miracle that Mrs. Gross was able to teach me to play the flute, and not a period in time that my parents relished, I can tell you that! I practiced every spare moment I had - I would have done anything to please Mrs. Gross, my altar ego incarnate. I had already decided I wanted to be just like her when I grew up. I could picture myself as a teacher (but, not of music), and I darned sure could see myself flying around town in a Cadillac convertible!

During that year Mrs. Gross decided to teach us how to dance, but, as one might imagine given Mrs. Gross’s flair for the arts, it would be no ordinary dance. No, it would be the “Minuet”. The Minuet, Lord Have Mercy! Dorky is not a word that we used back then in those days, but, it would have to be the word for learning the Minuet! Had it not been for Mrs. Gross, I probably, to this day, wouldn’t even know there was such a dance!

As much as I wanted to please Mrs. Gross, though, I just couldn't picture myself frolicking around a room dancing to that ancient 1600’s music with a stupid boy for heaven’s sake. Mrs. Gross gave us no choice, however, we were going to not only learn how to minuet, we were going to perform for the entire school, our parents and siblings to boot!

On the night of the performance, standing backstage, pure sweat was pouring outta my head and down my neck from wearing that heavy, hideous, snow white wig - not to mention that my knees were knockin’ so badly that my hoops were jiggling the voluminous gathered skirt I was forced to wear over my pantaloons! There was no way that I was going on that stage - no way, in Hades, I’m telling you. If the whole situation hadn’t been so humiliating, though, it would have been downright funny. The girls and boys were barely recognizable even to each other. The boys wore make-believe swords in their belts, tight britches and black boots. They wore the powdered wigs, also, and each looked like a miniature George Washington. (The minuet, by the way in case you didn‘t know, according to history was his favorite dance, only George and the Lord know why!). The girls all fit the bill of being George’s perfect dancing partner. Still, funny or not, I was not going on that stage.

Within seconds of making up my mind that I was not doing the minuet, Mrs. Gross walked up to me and said: “Uh oh, what’s wrong with you? You look pale!” I said: “I am soooo sick, really sick, I have to go home!” Mrs. Gross then said something to me that lead to her being cemented like concrete in my soul. “Tsk, tsk, that’s a shame, Sally, I hate to hear that. I really thought you were one of my bravest pupils!” Me? Brave? Huh! “Well,” my teacher continued, “I guess I’ll give Barbara Sue a lift home after the show instead of you. And, here I thought you’d like a ride in my convertible!” What? That statement by Mrs. Gross taught me that motivation can be a powerful incentive - that we can do what we have to in order to realize a dream.

Oh, honey, I danced the minuet that night! Yessiree bobcat! Brave little me! And, my dream did become reality. I’ll never forget cruising up and down River Road, under the stars, in that yellow Cadillac; my hair bouncing around on my head, the borrowed scarf billowing from around my neck, sitting beside one of the most beautiful people in my life at the time. My teacher, Mrs. Gross, knew much more about me than I did about her. She had looked into my ten year old heart, and knew just how it ticked. When I got home that night, I proudly and loudly announced: “When I grow up, I’m gonna buy me a yellow Cadillac!” My dad teased me about that for years and years!

:)