It was May 1974 our last day of school when I received my report card. I was filled with anticipation as I opened it up to see if I even passed. My grades were always below average and I would pass by the skin of my teeth. The second question that was bearing down on me was did I get assigned to Miss La Rose, as my seventh grade teacher.

Miss La Rose was known throughout the sixth-grade to be the toughest teacher around. Every sixth grader feared that they would be assigned to her class. Unfortunately, I was one of them, and my torment began the moment I opened up my report card and seen MISS LAROSE in the teacher’s slot. I was doomed!

I remembered all those day’s I passed her classroom as I would take the attendance sheet to the office every morning; and I would hear the teachers’ tiny voices squeaking underneath the loud thundering noise of unruly students’. That wasn’t surprising to me, nor was it to anyone else; that was the norm of every school morning.

However, what was unusual, I had never heard Miss La Rose speak, nor did I ever hear anyone else in her class speak. I mean it was so quiet that you can hear a pin drop!

One day I dared myself to stop and take a peak.

I was curious if she even had any real living, breathing students’ in her classroom. I looked around the hallway to see if anyone was around, as I quietly approached her door. All I could hear is my heart beating so loud, I was afraid she would hear it too and take me into her dreadful classroom; and make me into one of her “Students!”

The closer I get to the door the faster my heart would beat; so much so, I could hardly even breathe. 

To my amazement, there she was standing right over me with her hands on her sides looking down toward me.

I was so petrified I ran straight to the office and back into my classroom with a record time that no one else has ever broken, even to this day!

Summer vacation was over and the day of dread came much to fast. The first day of school as I walked into Miss La Rose’s classroom, my knees were trembling and chills were running up and down my arms even the hairs on my arms were standing straight up; and my thoughts were repeating the words, “I hope she doesn’t remember me.”

In fact, everyone w