Students Didn’t Get Retests in Those Days

I will never forget my Chemistry I teacher at Bishop Lynch High School in Dallas. Her name was Mrs. Battle, and she was from Cuba. We had a major test on the day after my mother had found my diary, in which I had questioned my own sexuality. It was one of the worst days of my life because I never wanted to disappoint my parents... but I knew I was different. I felt that it would have been better if they had found out I was hooked on drugs or had gotten pregnant (my thoughts, not theirs). Mom asked if I wanted to talk with a psychiatrist, but I convinced her that I was just confused and I wasn’t really “that way”.

I studied and cried and worried and studied and cried. I had made an A on all my previous tests, and I knew the material. The next day, however, I failed the only test I ever failed in school.

Fortunately for me, Mrs. Battle could see that I was emotionally distraught that day. She came to find me later in the afternoon, and she told me she would like for me to take the test again when I was feeling better. (I’m tearing up now as I remember her kindness and perception.) I made 100 on my retest. Students didn’t get retests in those days, but I did.

I will always love you, Mrs. Battle.