Δαφνη Ευτυχια Αρθουρος

And me, I worshipped teachers. Just as a habit. They were the people who kept the other students from beating me up too much. So I will hereby leave my love to every teacher I've had except Halina Margula, who got way the hell bent out of shape because I fucked up her precious spelling bees, and was hypercritical of my alleged peers. And then I got Kathleen Dougherty, who accepted me as I was and taught two classes because I needed one. and Dr. Stanek, who let me go to Jr. High a year early, thus enabling me to start over.(I had a crush on him from the get-go. He made moustaches look good. And dark blue eyes. Bestill my adolescent heart!) I grew to have friends there. And when I needed out of high school he got me into college. It's amazing what school psychologists can do. They can even go over the head of a guidance counsellor who is hiding exactly the needed program's fliers in his bottom drawer. May Mr. Rudin rot in hell after a protracted bout of prostate cancer. And I hope Dr. Stanek is living whatever his happily ever after is.

Along the way I have to give Mr. Mohammed Husami his due. He actually noticed that I was a diligent scholar. And Mr. Sager, who gave me many religious arguments against blue eyeshadow. He was probably aesthetically right. And Mrs. Neville. And Mr. Greenberg. And Mrs. Goff, whom I much later introduced to my friend Tim, with surprising results. Well, I told him he'd like her. I felt sorry for her having to teach such a boring curriculum, with me sitting there in the back row doing embroidery without shame. She obviously wanted to break out and make English lively.

And the list could go on and on. I loved my teachers. But love is my default setting.