I get a handful of free books from my publisher, and I’m saving one for Alvina. She was my first teacher, the one who made me want to teach. And as I took class after class on the way to a teaching degree, I measured my other teachers and professors and eventually myself by Alvina. She was my yardstick.
Alvina is the teacher. I’m in the front row with the blue dress.
Alvina is now 94 years old. The last time I went back to Grantsville, Maryland, I stopped to see Alvina. She remembered me . . . and my first grade reading score.
“I wrote a book,” I told her.
“Good for you,” she said. “I want to buy one. What’s it about?”
“You,” I said. “It’s about you. And I’ll be bringing you a book.”
Apple to Apple 