My favorite teacher

It was the beginning of school year in 1971. I was one of thirty children in Mrs. Judson's fourth grade class. Mrs. Judson was a middle aged black woman. She had heard all of the stories of me coming to school battered and bruised. She, like my previous teachers was under orders to send me to the principals office with any new bruise or injury.

I had also been elected to be a safety patrolman that year and I was so excited to wear my bright orange belt with my shiny new badge. I was so proud to be on the safety patrol. Mrs. Judson was an excellent teacher and I really loved her, but I was also skeptical of her because of her reporting authority. I was starting to learn how she acted towards us and realized she was a loving, caring and patient person. I could see in her eyes how she looked upon all of us with love.

One day I came to school and looked like I had gone fifteen with Ali. She sent me to the principals office, but I was back in less than ten minutes. The principals office called me back down and said a nice lady had some questions about my injuries, but I clammed up. The lady introduced herself as Meghan from Department of Social Services. Like my teacher she was a middle aged black woman. Meghan said all she wanted to do was help, but I wasn't biting.

When I arrived back to my classroom, my name was on the board for recess detention. I was really freaking out at this point, because my sister told all at home, because she arrived home before I did. As the class was going outside for recess, I put my head on the desk and let the tears rolls down my cheek. Mrs. Judson came over and sat by me, then started scratching my back. She asked who blacked your eyes baby boy? I asked why do you care what happens to me, I am white? She said oh baby boy I love all of my students black and white. Then I asked why should I tell you because you have orders to send me to the principals and share information with him. She reassured me that whatever I tell her will stay between us. She started to rub my back and asked again who blacked my eyes, I told her mom got one and my dad the other one. She asked to look at my back and I showed her. She then put me down for recess detention for the rest of the week.

After Mrs. Judson broke through my wall, I started to open up to her, but not completely. I would only tell her what I wanted her to know. Before you know it the clock and you had gone by. It was soon to be Christmas vacation. On the first day back, my first grade teacher, Miss Campbell, principal George Johnson and Mrs. Judson were all at the front of the class. Mrs. Judson announced she had breast cancer and was scheduled for surgery in two days. The principal said in the mean time Miss Campbell would be taking over for our teacher. As I got up to leave for patrol duty, Mrs. Judson hugged and kissed me, then said she loved me. I left with tears in my eyes.

Three days after the bombshell announcement about Mrs. Judson, our principal was in our classroom and gave the update that Mrs. Judson passed away while having surgery. I bolted out of the classroom, but was blocked from leaving school. I went to her funeral, I was the only student to do so. They had me sitting with her family and my shirt was soaking wet by the time I arrived back to school. After this incident, I rarely trusted my teachers because I didn't have the assurances that Mrs. Judson had given me.

I am sure everyone has a Mrs. Judson in their lives. If you do or have had one, then you are truly blessed. The song I have used was sung by our class, the last song Mrs. Judson taught us.