eugh. finally. this one did not want to be written at all, and hence, i don’t like it very much. but it’s the only way i can get fff#33.
(and for those who catch on…. ahem… doh make it out please :P)
She took everything mundane about our classes and spritzed it with her flowery perfume. Most of the boys where enthralled by Ms Bell. The ones in the upper classes attempted to wow her with their newfound charms. Us younger ones just blushed when she asked us questions and tried to impress her by either being very bad, or very good.
She rolled her Rs beautifully, and once she sang us a Spanish lullaby in her sweet, lilting voice. For me, she was an angel in my history of all male teachers and she begun my transition from boy to man.
She left after a year, not because she was a bad teacher, but because she was going back to school. My next Spanish teacher was the very old, very wrinkled, very surly Mrs Jones, but my love of the language had been very securely cemented and not even Mrs Jones’ perpetual grouchiness could waver it.
I hadn’t given Ms Bell much thought for years when one day while I was in the office with a class mate I saw her. I went up to her and stumbled out a quick introduction.
“You mightn’t remember me Miss, but I was in your form one class and-” I rattled.
She interrupted me. “Of course I remember you Jason.” I was twelve again, knees shaking and blushing like mad just from her words and her charming smile. Some things never changed.