The Teacher With The Purple Pen

As the daughter of an English teacher, there were pros and a few cons (high expectations, which in my youth did not seem like a pro and many long nights grading papers when her attention was elsewhere). But certainly more pros. She would always help me with my essay assignments in encouraging ways. She was known by her students as the teacher with the purple pen, because instead of using a red pen to make corrections on their assignment, she chose purple. I never asked her why she chose that color but I think the implication of a red pen was more critical, inflammatory. Purple was cooling, calm, not critical, but suggestive and helpful. She would often say her reentry students were her favorites. And so many of them on her retirement wrote lengthy letters of gratitude for her teaching approach. She taught till the age of 67 and died at 69. I think that’s what kept her living as long as she did. She actually shouldn’t have been alive. My mother contracted polio at the age of six before the vaccine was available She required an iron lung, and was the only person in her small town in Indiana who survived the polio epidemic that year . She stayed in a wheelchair the rest of her life. Her presence in the classroom inspired people not just physically, but also the kindness that she exuded and the acceptance that she always had for each person. They could see how her disability did not affect her ability to think and teach. It didn’t stop her efforts to use her mind, even if her body failed her. It’s hard to feel sorry for oneself when you see your teacher struggling to get in the door. Seeing what it takes to daily try to live a “normal life.” I think, though for many, the initial feeling towards her was one of hesitation and limitations. That very quickly changed though, with her winning smile and no nonsense attitude and engaged listening; she would win them over. This happened both inside and outside the classroom. Although at the time being an only child and often her caregiver, I didn’t appreciate what a gift she gave me, as well as her many students that she influenced through her years of teaching. It was the quiet, consistent daily effort to enjoy learning. The small act of encouraging someone else so selflessly. The gumption to get up every morning and face each day with a positive attitude and kindness towards others. She gave her heart even to those who were unkind to her. She set an example that I try to live up to, but fall short. And each day I try again because of her. (Please forgive in any grammatical errors)