Skip to main content

A Special Teacher



Jean Thompson stood in front of her fifth grade class on the very first day of school in the fall and told the children a lie. Like most teachers, she looked at her pupils and said that she loved them all the same, that she would treat them all alike. And that was impossible because there in front of her, slumped in his seat on the third row, was a little boy named Teddy Stoddard.

Mrs. Thompson had watched Teddy the year before and noticed he didn't
play well with the other children, that his clothes were unkept and that he constantly needed a bath. And Teddy was unpleasant.

It got to the point during the first few months that she would actually take delight in marking his papers with a broad red pen, making bold X's and then marking the F at the top of the paper biggest of all. Because Teddy was a sullen little boy, no one else seemed to enjoy him, either.

At the school where Mrs. Thompson taught, she was required to review each child's records and put Teddy's off until last. When she opened his file, she was in for a surprise. His first grade teacher wrote,
"Teddy is a bright, inquisitive child with a ready laugh." "He does his work neatly and has good manners...he is a joy to be around."

His second grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is an excellent student well liked by his classmates, but he is troubled because his mother has a terminal illness and life at home must be a struggle."

His third grade teacher wrote, "Teddy continues to work hard but his mother's death has been hard on him. He tries to do his best but his father doesn't show much interest and his home life will soon affect him if some steps aren't taken."

Teddy's fourth grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is withdrawn and doesn't show much interest in school. He doesn't have many friends and sometimes sleeps in class. He is tardy and could become a problem."

By now Mrs. Thompson realized the problem, but Christmas was coming fast. It was all she could do, with the school play and all, until the day before the holidays began and she was suddenly forced to focus on Teddy Stoddard.

Her children brought her presents, all in beautiful ribbon and bright paper, except for Teddy's, which was clumsily wrapped in the heavy, brown paper of a scissored grocery bag. Mrs. Thompson took pains to open it in the middle of the other presents.

Some of the children started to laugh when she found a rhinestone bracelet with some of the stones missing, and a bottle that was one quarter full of cologne. She stifled the children's laughter when she exclaimed how pretty the bracelet was, putting it on, and dabbing some of the perfume behind the other wrist. Teddy Stoddard stayed behind just long enough to say, "Mrs. Thompson, today you smelled just like my mom used to."

After the children left she cried for at least an hour. On that very day, she quit teaching reading, writing, and speaking. Instead, she began to teach children. Jean Thompson paid particular attention to one they all called "Teddy."

As she worked with him, his mind seemed to come alive. The more she encouraged him, the faster he responded. On days where there would be an important test, Mrs. Thompson would remember that cologne. By the end of the year he had become one of the smartest children in the class and...well, he had also become the "pet" of the teacher who had once vowed to love all of her children exactly the same.

A year later she found a note under her door, from Teddy, telling her that of all the teachers he'd had in elementary school, she was his favorite. Six years went by before she got another note from Teddy.

He then wrote that he had finished high school, third in his class, and she was still his favorite teacher of all time.

Four years after that, she got another letter, saying that while things had been tough at times, he'd stayed in school, had stuck with
it, and would graduate from college with the highest of honors. He assured Mrs. Thompson she was still his favorite teacher.

Then four more years passed and yet another letter came. This time he
explained that after he got his bachelor's degree, he decided to go a little further. The letter explained that she was still his favorite teacher, but that now his name was a little longer. The letter was signed, Theodore F. Stoddard, M.D.

The story doesn't end there. You see, there was yet another letter that Spring. Teddy said he'd met this girl and was to be married. He explained that his father had died a couple of years ago and he was wondering...well, if Mrs. Thompson might agree to sit in the pew usually reserved for the mother of the groom. And guess what, she wore that bracelet, the one with several rhinestones missing. And I bet on that special day, Jean Thompson smelled just like...well, just like the way Teddy remembered his mother smelling on their last Christmas together.

Written by: Sulyman Abdulsomad
_Inspirational feel good stories._


Share your comments and thoughts on this please. If you learnt a lesson, please tell us what you learnt in the comment section.

It is Zaynerb's hope to help teachers become better at what they do.


Comments

  1. This got my attention till the end. Nice piece.

    ReplyDelete
  2. This is beyond beautiful ❤️

    ReplyDelete
  3. I pray every Mrs Thompson in our lives continue to encourage us to be better.

    ReplyDelete
  4. Wow that was interesting, I almost cried ๐Ÿ˜ฟ๐Ÿ˜ฟ๐Ÿ˜ฟ

    ReplyDelete
  5. Interesting๐Ÿ˜๐Ÿ˜

    ReplyDelete
  6. Nice piece...penpal,inviting more writers isn't at all a bad idea..keep being sweet ~muhsinah

    ReplyDelete
  7. Please connect me with that teacher, I need to learn how not to beat kids that score less than half in my CA๐Ÿ˜‚๐Ÿ˜‚๐Ÿ˜‚

    ReplyDelete
  8. This is Peng... the writer maintains vibe till the end...

    ReplyDelete
  9. It indeed takes a lot of strength to not judge a book by its cover.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

How Inspiration Comes

It comes in form of a rush. I mean my inspiration. Just a moment ago, it wasn't here and now its here. One thing I'm sure of - if I don't put this down right now, it'll be gone and I wouldn't have it back. If by chance I get it back, it wouldn't be the way it came now. Inspiration's weird right? But what can we do? Have I mentioned already that its inspiration to write that I refer to in this post? I like to sleep with a pen and paper on my bed, because right when I close my eyes to sleep, that's when the words come to me. Now I have two options. I either close my eyes and dream, or I pick up my pen and paper to pour down ink. The end result of the first is a good sleep. While the end result of the second, is what you now read. Well then, this doesn't mean that when I drop my pen, I wouldn't sleep. I still will. But inspiration comes from several other things. Inspiration could come from how the clock ticks. It could come from how your...

It's All In Your Eyes

" Look into my eyes" has anyone ever said these words to you? Then it may be that such person already understands that the eye is a window to the heart. Deep connections can be felt with souls by looking at people. No, not at their figures but into their eyes. There's no place to hide once a person has gotten into your eye for the eye is road to your heart. Its all in the eyes. Your thoughts, your words, your emotions - anger, hate, pain, love, fear, agitation, tension the list goes on. Its in the eye. If one is observant, its easy to tell the state of another's emotion just by looking into their eyes. I know if a person hates my guts by the look they give me. I've seen pure admiration in someone else's eyes. I've seen jealousy, distaste, kindness, confusion, deception, love and even lies in the eyes. So I can say from experience that our emotions are in our eyes. But my resolution isn't based on personal experience alone. Research by Adams Ander...