Miss Buckley

This is a re-typed selection that I originally wrote on a typewriter in high school some time. I was surprised by how much I liked it.

It was fifth grade, I had a teacher names Mrs. Cele who looked like an old goblin, but who actually very nice after you just accepted the fact that she was your teacher for the next nine months. It was almost like every teacher I ever had was giving birth to me every May the way the nine month cycle kept repeating. Especially considering my birthday typically fell less than a week after summer break began. From kindergarten through 6th grade also, I had nothing but grandma-like teachers, all of them Mrs. Most of them were very nice, especially Mrs. Plum whose face seemed to smile perpetually. The corners of her eyes were always pulled back tight with creases from years of smiles that spread over her whole visage. She gave out candy at the end of the week if you behaved well enough. There was only one teacher that I had besides Miss Buckley who wasn't a grandma-type, and that was my first grade teacher Mrs. Laird. Mrs. Laird was still a Mrs. though, and to make matters worse, got pregnant half way through the year. I didn't realize it then, but until I was eleven years old, my life contained a ridiculous amount of mommies.
So in fifth grade, when Miss Buckley began her student teaching term with Mrs. Celi, she hardly compared with the rest of the staff. First of all, she was available. I took great pride in those days having learned the difference between Mrs. Ms. and Miss and being able to address my professors by their correct titles. While my fellow students called her Miss because it was easier to say, and they'd been calling teachers that their whole life, I called Miss Buckley Miss because it meant she was one fish in the sea that could still be caught.
I fancied myself a fisherman.
Perhaps it was because Miss Buckley was the first real woman I had ever laid my romantic little eyes on that she attracted me. Perhaps it was because she wore short skirts and sleeveless tops with legs and arms that didn't jiggle while she wrote on the blackboard. Maybe it was the way her lips still curled up, and stayed pouty and red even without lipstick . In any case, Miss Buckley was something young and new. She was energetic and exciting. She was playful. She wasn't a lady, she was a woman.