When I was in 4th grade, my teacher Ms. Plank wrote that I was a "beautiful writer" on my first report card. Her kindness didn't make sense to me at the time because she was famously the meanest teacher in the school.
Ms. Plank must've embraced her notoriety because she had a photo of a cartoon pirate in her class. I can't remember the exact verbiage on the sign, but there was reference to 'walking the plank' if you screwed around in her class. Everyone knew that if she told you to 'walk the plank' it meant that you fucked up and you had to come up and talk to her. I felt intimidated when she whispered to those kids, though none of them ever left her desk crying. Her command presence was so confident.
Her face was stern, but people went back to their seats and acted right.
A lot of us kids secretly made fun of her at the time because of her fashion choices. Ms. Plank was clearly stuck in the 70's. She kept her hair long, always rocked bell bottoms & long puff coats, and had these blue-tinted, bug eye shades that she wore during recess duty. You could never see her eyes and her face was stone cold. Her aesthetic suited her personality. The joke was on us though. Now that I'm likely her age at that time, I get it. She was going to work feeling like a boss and marched to beat of her own drum. Fuck what decade it was, Ms. Plank liked what she liked and she went with it.
She was a nonconformist and you gotta admire that.
A few decades later, I saw some old classmates reminiscing about Colma on a Facebook post. One of the people referred to her as a 'fucking bitch' and it got a lot of cosigns to say the least. Maybe she was, but being that I'm close to the age she was back then, I get it. Being responsible for hella kids is stressful.
I'm a fucking bitch, too.
I like to think that despite her tightly pursed lips and expressionless stare, she loved each and every one of her students. She taught us music and square dancing. She encouraged us all to play instruments, but I eventually dropped out of clarinet because I didn't want extra work.
Like I said, some things never change.
If my memory serves me correctly, she didn't have children of her own, but she dedicated her life to teaching hordes of kids. We couldn't expect her to be nice all the time. She did her best to put goodness in the world. So, in case you're using her impact on me as a gauge, she really did do some goodness. I think we all start our own careers being bright-eyed & hopeful until time, responsibility, and sometimes people, wear you down. After nineteen years of doing the same thing, I'm there now.
I get it, Ms. Plank. Fuck work. Lol.
Ms. Plank sticks out to me the most out of all my elementary school teachers because she was one of the first people in my life that saw me...even before I saw myself. Surely, I wasn't writing novels back then, but man, she had to have known what she was doing by saying that to me. That report card comment was pivotal in changing my mind about her. Here I am, 30 years later, still writing. Still mad that I never went on to Harvard. I never lost that part of me. 9 year old Tiff is still the same as 39 year old Tiff.
I still think about her often. Because I'm a total stalker, I went down the rabbit hole a few times trying to find her over the years. In fact, I took a quick pause from writing this to try and find her again. What I do know is she's still local and she was teaching as of 2020. She is still unlisted and still not on social media. And... I'm still awkward and would never reach out to her even if I did find her. At the very least, I hope she can feel all the gratitude I'm sending her way.
By the end of 4th grade, I adored Ms. Plank despite the fact that she never outwardly showed any affection, tenderness, or preference over any one student. I appreciate her equality in that sense. She had no pets. In 5th grade she signed my yearbook and simply put, "Remember the music." I thought about what that meant for many years. Why would I ever want to remember the clarinet? Or square dancing? Or 4th grade math?!
I get it now.
Just for shits and giggles I went back and read the post I wrote to commemorate turning thirty. It was a cringey read, but I'm glad it exists. What I've come to realize is that I spent much of the last decade doing a lot of what I was doing in my 20s...
Just trying to figure shit out.
I went on to have three more cubbies so that was big. Finally got married at thirty-five and updated my last name. But, I still didn't win the lotto, still don't contribute to my 401k, still feel fifteen inside, still take my time to perfect the beat, and I still got love for the streets! (We can't be friends if you don't know where that last part is from.) All jokes aside, I spent much of the last decade not seeing myself. I was too damn busy. So, I've spent the last three years trying to see myself again the way Ms. Plank saw me.
Reflecting on that woman has been transformative for me.
For starters, I increased in volume in the white hair department, but I honestly don't care. It's odd to me that so many people do. I'm talking randoms, too. The post office guy. The dude checking my temperature at a doctor's visit. Well-meaning family & friends. It's amazing how comfortable people feel telling me what they think I should change about myself. I'm just nice like that, I guess.
So... let the record formally state that I embrace my white hairs so much that it's almost to the point of resistance.
It's just hair, but it holds deep sentimental value to me. This is pregnancy hair going as far back as Ethan. Those dry, brittle ends people tell me to chop off because they think it's ugly are the last reminders of when he was here. I'm marching to the beat of my own drum and I'll cut my hair or dye my hair when I'm good and ready. Just like Ms. Plank and her 70's clothes, I like what I like. So leave me be. Please.
I'm a nonconformist and you gotta admire that.
I've come to love a lot about myself. Even the parts that people think I shouldn't. It took a lot of work for me to get to this point in my life. I was under-spoken for many, many years and I swallowed my feelings to please others. I felt yucky inside because of it. Not anymore.
I'm the nicest, stone cold bitch you'll ever meet.
The last decade has taught me that people are going to think, act and feel how they want. And, if they're going to have something to say about you, no amount of kindness you do will stop them. I hold firm boundaries now. When I feel weak, I give myself space to retreat and recover. I know it makes people feel uncomfy because they're still getting used to this part of me. I hold people accountable now and I feel liberated because of it. What Ms. Plank taught me was that I should take pride in that.
People should 'walk the plank' if they're fuckin up, but still show them kindness.
I left the kids and husband out of this post with intention because I'm practicing being me outside of mother and wife. As I wipe my feet at forty's front door, at the very least I know for a fact that I still like to write. And, that I need to stop being so damn busy all the time. If you'd made it this far, I thank you for your dedication! We can all learn a lesson or two from my romanticized memory of Ms. Plank.
Take no bullshit. Let mfers know.
Keep your spirit light.
And no matter how fucked life gets, remember the wonderful things.
Remember the music!
God willing, I'm looking forward to continuing this story at fifty.
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| Square dancing in my sister's kinder grad dress. lol |
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| 1991. I cannot make this shit up. |
(If you're still alive and ever read this, I'm sorry if I was wrong about your age, Ms. Plank. In my defense, all adults looked forty to me in 1991. P.S. Blogs are different. I remember that you're not supposed to start sentences with 'And' and 'Because')
