For the past few days, I’ve been mulling over what I would blog about this week. Maybe I could talk about the book I finished reading, or the amazing pedicure I had on Saturday, or my son’s first few days back to school. But something real hit pretty hard today. A few days ago, a FB friend mentioned he was praying for a family. I knew immediately who he was talking about, but I didn’t want to think that anything terrible had happened. I found out today that it did.

My favorite teacher passed away this weekend. I’m not sure why I’m having such a hard time with this — I hadn’t seen her in over ten years. I don’t talk about my mother’s passing often, and of course this new loss rakes up all those same wounds. But I think I just need to give voice to what this wonderful lady meant to me.

I could talk about what she taught, or even how she taught, but all that was secondary to the fact that she cared. She cared about each and every student who passed through her doors, and every one of us knew it. She was there to help when things were messy and inconvenient. She made time to listen.

I didn’t want to become a teacher. I majored in English because I love to read. I went to graduate school in the education department because it was a one year program. But somewhere along the way, I remembered the impact that Mrs. Hughes had on my life. My #1 goal in the classroom was to be the kind of teacher that she was. I’m sure I failed early and often, but if I was for even one kid what Mrs. Hughes was for me (and hundreds of others, no doubt) then all the other stuff was worth it.