Dear Mrs. (Mary) Fisher,

Congratulations on being named the South Bend School Corp.’s “Teacher of the Year.”

You may not remember me but you were my very first teacher.

It was the South Bend Hebrew Day School, circa 1984-85, I believe. I started school at a young age, I was a year younger than everyone in my class and you were my kindergarten teacher.

Though I’m sure my parents, the neurological make-up of my brain and the powers that be above had something to do with it, I’m going to go ahead and just say that it was you who taught me to read.

To be specific, you taught me to read “A Pig Can Jig.” Parts I and II.

It was no easy feat. There’s a lot of pressure on those first stages of reading. You have to get the sounds right and you teachers, you know, you don’t mess around. And we have to say that stuff out loud.

“I ran. I ran to the fan. I ran to the tan van.”

They say everything one needs to know they learned in kindergarten. I don’t know if that’s necessarily true. I don’t remember learning about rent or taxes, politics or the capacity for bad in the world – but I know I learned a whole lot.

Like snack time and naptime are things one should appreciate at a young age. Because once one is older one is not afforded such luxuries unless one has built up enough vacation time.
I can remember thinking fish were fascinating (not so much anymore) and that the idea of color in general was mesmerizing.

What I remember most about learning to read was a sense of accomplishment once I’d gotten to the end of that Part I. It was pretty awesome, that feeling of working at something and then succeeding at it.

When you get older, I learned, it’s not so much that those moments are fewer or farther between, it’s that we sometimes just don’t take the time to feel them. Or we forget about feeling them all together.

My parents were concerned with my age. So they held me back and I was forced to go through kindergarten again with kids the same age as me. They figured it wouldn’t be a big deal because it was kindergarten. But I quickly learned how boring it can be learning the same thing twice.

Education is meant to live in motion. It should always be moving, a force that breaks ground and the boundaries of our minds. Whether we’re learning facts and figures, histories or languages or just the interesting little elements of human behavior, it can’t happen if we stop living. If we stop moving. If we stop watching.

So we moved on, to “A Pig Can Jig Part II.”

“Fit the ham into a pan. Fit the jam into a can. Fit a map into a kit. Fit a cab into a pit.”

Even now I remember that feeling of being ahead of the rest of the class. Of being only one of a couple who’d moved on to Part II. But I learned that accomplishment should never be mistaken for arrogance.

We are all armed with knowledge or talent or little things that others don’t have. A sense of humor, a gift for numbers, a natural sense of motherhood or a quick wit.

Whatever it is, it’s only an accomplishment if it is used in a manner that is a benefit. A good in the world or to others.

Part II wasn’t about being better or bragging. It was about growing up and being able to pass on what you can to someone who might need it. Need your strength, your understanding or your consideration.

Those lessons didn’t just come from a group full of little kids trying to fall into line but from time spent sitting with a teacher who made me feel smart before I even knew what smart was.

So, I congratulate you on your recent naming of “Teacher of the Year.” Something tells me that prize is more than a little deserved.

Because some 25 years later, I can still remember the lessons of your class. And that’s saying a lot.

Because I also remember eating a lot of paste.

Thanks for breaking me of that, by the way.

Jessica Sieff is a reporter for the Niles Daily Star. Reach her at
jessica.sieff@leaderpub.com.