She began as a copy of a magazine image but soon she became frighteningly familiar.
I recognized her features and detached gaze.
I remembered her high style and clicking stilettos.
Once again I felt her penetrating eyes as my knees started to buckle under her stare.
She was a stealthy woman- always coming up from behind.
Never saying a word but leaving a lasting impression as her titanium grip cut off the blood from my bare arm, red polished nails squeezing until I submitted.
She had no tolerance for for gaiety, talkativeness or childish views on life.
Her name was Mrs. Walker.
She was fierce.
She was my 2nd grade teacher- 1963.
think I had that witch for first grade
ReplyDeleteshe didn't wear stilettos or red nail polish but she was entirely UNSUITED for children
I walked out one day and went home