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Teacher, Teacher, I declare!

I remember the time shortly after I turned 18 very well thanks to one wonderful teacher. Mrs. Windsor was a young vibrant brunette who taught Math and Algebra. She appeared at my school almost like a goddess. She was the talk of the school because of her beauty and also because though she was married everyone knew about the tragic disease her husband suffered from. He was confined to a wheelchair a victim of a progressive muscular and nervous system disorder.

Mrs. Windsor was alluring not just because of her beauty but because of her strength. She was always so positive and strong even with all she had been through. Because of the tragic figure she represented I am sure I wasn't the only young man in our small town falling asleep dreaming about her.

I was close to graduating However my last two years were a kind of a blur. A young man's problems with girlfriends and some serious experimenting with Pot had blurred my perspective and I was struggling to pass in several classes especially math. Rather than join my friends behind the bleachers during break one day I decided to go and talk with Mrs. Windsor about my problems with math. As I approached the door to her room I was slightly hesitant mainly because I was the class clown everyone including the teacher's knew this. Plus I was pretty sure that a lot of the teachers knew I had the occasional toke. Typical paranoia, ...

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