Once A Teacher, Always A Teacher

 Mom found her many years of teaching elementary school invaluable even after she retired. She saw examples for life in even the smallest incidents. One day our large orange and white cat clawed at the screen door and meowed. Mom went to see what he wanted. There stood Felix (who in no way resembled the cartoon cat) proudly displaying his hunting prowess. Mom gingerly disposed of the dead mouse, patted Felix, and exclaimed, "What a good cat you are!" He trotted at her heels, wearing a satisfied cat-smirk on his babyish face.

The next day Felix summoned her to view a dead mole, the results of his hunting in the vacant lot next to our house. Mom was impressed and said so. The third day Felix went through the same rigmarole. Mom was beginning to tire of his rodent offerings. Which would it be today? Mouse or mole? She took one look and shook with laughter. Mighty hunter Felix had brought her a long and wiggling night crawler! Mom didn't have the heart to erase the self-satisfied smile from his smug face. The cat got his petting and praise.

When she told me about it that night, she held her sides from laughing. "Isn't that just like some people?" she gasped when she could get her breath. "As proud of a tiny achievement as a large one." I thought of times I had visited Mom's classroom. I'd seen shocky-headed urchins walk away from their teacher's desk, heads high, eyes shining. "Yes," I agreed. "But remember, you always praised your students' efforts equally, the same way you praised Felix for his mouse, mole, and night crawler.

The child who showed the slightest improvement received the same warm approval as those making A's. And that's why they all loved you." Mom just smiled. The orange and white cat in her lap shot me a triumphant glance and purred louder than ever.