By Ellyn Mantell
It certainly feels as if we have traveled through a time warp, having spent countless days and nights in crisis mode during the pandemic. We are all weary of the sadness and fear with which we lived through 2020 and much of 2021. As I thought of all we have experienced, I could not help but think of all we have lost. Our children lost the most, I believe, in not having their teachers in person, having to rely upon virtual learning. Everyone pitched in and did the best they were able to do, but now that school is reopening, I want to give a loud and appreciative SHOUT OUT to teachers who inspire, like one wonderful teacher did for me!
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“Age cannot wither, nor custom never stale, your infinite variety.” (A variation of a Shakespeare quote) My 6th-grade teacher, Edna S. Brady, handed me back my autograph book and I could not wait to read what she wrote to me. It was 6th Grade graduation, and ironically, I was the tallest in the entire 6th Grade. I had the honor of closing the auditorium door after all of us were seated on the stage. We were heading to Junior High School, and I was truly a different person in June than I had been in September. That was thanks to Mrs. Brady.
Mrs. Brady may have written that quote hundreds of times over the years she was a teacher, and it may have made many young people feel important, but I can assure you that I am the only adult who still not only remembers that quote but identifies reading it as the very moment my life changed, my self-image grew, and I felt myself become a person of pride I had never felt before.
We had moved from our tiny apartment to a house when I was entering 6th grade, and I was filled with stress and anxiety. I had more responsibility than an average child of that age should have due to the mental illness of both of my parents, and it took its toll on my fragile self-esteem. I was caught in a vicious cycle of worry and fear until Mrs. Brady took me under her wing. How she knew I needed her to do so, I have no idea, but she gave me so much of herself that I flourished. I can still picture her as she left her car in the parking lot, walked into Livingston School in Union, New Jersey, took off her hat and gloves, hung her coat, and sat at her desk.
I began to have reasons to talk with her before school, ask her questions, and feel her warmth. She would encourage me to reach out to the other girls in the class, and work on projects with partners. Whether she sensed a child who was struggling, or she was simply a teacher who sought to gently push her students, I began to thrive. My grades improved; my physical issues, due to stress, began to disappear, my heart began to open to the possibility that there were more than the difficulties at home.
For many years, I would read the obituary to see if Mrs. Brady had died. She probably was not old, but children have no sense of the age of adults. I struggle to convey what she did, how she did it, and what her words, the variation of Shakespeare, really said to me. I had infinite variety; I had something that she thought of as special.
I would like to believe that Mrs. Brady saw a young girl who was in terrible pain with no place to express it. My bitten nails and cuticles, tear-stained eyes, overprotection of my younger sister who was also in the school, all had to tell her more than my words could have. I would like to believe that what she saw, she knew could be changed with kindness and loving gestures, a little push to make new friends. Her warmth replaced the negative self-worth with motivation to be my best. I had value, I was worth caring about, I was important to her. I had something to offer, and like a sorcerer, she cast a spell, and I will forever be inspired to chase that infinite variety. Thank you to all teachers who cast a spell…you never know whose life you will change, like Edna S. Brady changed mine!