Today's Helping of Chicken Soup for the Soul

[Guest guest]

To Beth's First-Grade Teacher

By F. Abrahamson

I didn't know the man in front of me that morning. But I did notice that we both

walked a little straighter, a little more proudly, as our daughters held our

hands. We were proud but apprehensive on that important day. Our girls were

beginning first grade. We were about to give them up, for a while at least, to

the institution we call school. As we entered the building, he looked at me. Our

eyes met just for a minute, but that was enough. Our love for our daughters, our

hopes for their future, our concern for their well-being welled up in our eyes.

You, their teacher, met us at the door. You introduced yourself and showed the

girls to their seats. We gave them each a good-bye kiss, and then we walked out

the door. We didn't talk to each other on the way back to the parking lot and on

to our respective jobs. We were too involved thinking about you.

There were so many things we wanted to tell you, Teacher. Too many things were

left unsaid. So I'm writing to you. I'd like to tell you the things we didn't

have time for that first morning.

I hope you noticed Beth's dress. She looked beautiful in it. Now I know you

might think that's a father's prejudice, but she thinks she looks beautiful in

it, and that's what's really important. Did you know we spent a full week

searching the shopping malls for just the right dress for that special occasion?

She wouldn't show you, but I'm sure she'd like you to know that she picked that

dress because of the way it unfurled as she danced in front of the mirrors in

the clothing store. The minute she tried it on, she knew she'd found her special

dress. I wonder if you noticed. Just a word from you would make that dress all

the more wondrous.

Her shoes tell a lot about Beth and a lot about her family. At least they're

worth a minute of your time. Yes, they're blue shoes with one strap. Solid,

well-made shoes, not too stylish, you know the kind. What you don't know is how

we argued about getting the kind of shoes she said all the girls would be

wearing. We said no to plastic shoes in purple or pink or orange.

Beth was worried that the other kids would laugh at her baby shoes. In the end

she tried the solid blue ones on and, with a smile, told us she always did like

strap shoes. That's the first-born, eager to please. She's like the shoes -

solid and reliable. How she'd love it if you mentioned those straps.

I hope you quickly notice that Beth is shy. She'll talk her head off when she

gets to know you, but you'll have to make the first move. Don't mistake her

quietness for lack of intelligence. Beth can read any children's book you put in

front of her. She learned reading the way it should be taught. She learned it

naturally, snuggled up in her bed with her mother and me reading her stories at

naptime, at bedtime and at cuddling times throughout the day. To Beth, books are

synonymous with good times and loving family. Please don't change her love of

reading by making the learning of it a burdensome chore. It has taken us all her

life to instill in her the joy of books and learning.

Did you know that Beth and her friends played school all summer in preparation

for their first day? I should tell you about her class. Everybody in her class

wrote something every day. She encouraged the other kids who said they couldn't

think of anything to write about. She helped them with their spelling. She came

to me upset one day. She said you might be disappointed in her because she

didn't know how to spell " subtraction. " She can do that now. If you would only

ask her. Her play school this summer was filled with positive reinforcement and

the quiet voice of a reassuring teacher. I hope that her fantasy world will be

translated into reality in your classroom.

I know you're busy with all the things that a teacher does at the beginning of

the school year, so I'll make this letter short. But I did want you to know

about the night before that first day. We got her lunch packed in the Care Bear

lunch box. We got the backpack ready with the school supplies. We laid out her

special dress and shoes, read a story, and then I shut off the lights. I gave

her a kiss and started to walk out of the room. She called me back in and asked

me if I knew that God wrote letters to people and put them in their minds.

I told her I never had heard that, but I asked if she had received a letter. She

had. She said the letter told her that her first day of school was going to be

one of the best days of her life. I wiped away a tear as I thought: Please let

it be so.

Later that night I discovered a note Beth left for me. It read, " I'm so lucky to

have you for a dad. " Well, Beth's first-grade teacher, I think you're so lucky

to have her as a student. We're all counting on you. Every one of us who left

our children and our dreams with you that day. As you take our youngsters by the

hand, stand a little taller and walk a little prouder. Being a teacher carries

with it an awesome responsibility.