I had an English teacher in high school named Miss Morton. (Of course she later became Mrs. Bradley when that lucky man, Mr. Bradley, succeeded in marrying her.) She was perhaps the greatest teacher I have ever had. She made me enjoy literature, and reading, and really digging deeply into the meanings of books. She was smart, and funny, and she had a radical teaching style that really connected with her students. For instance when we were talking about Kafka’s “Metamorphosis,” she brought in coffee and hot chocolate, made us form our desks into a circle, and we had a “coffee shop” discussion of the book. Or when we studied Chaucer’s “Canterbury Tales,” she made us each select one of the story tellers, dress up like them, and retell their tale to the whole class. Some of us even put on skits to act out the tale…which was more effective on some of the tales. When we studied iambic pentameter, she made us write a poem in “Olde English” using the technique of iambic pentameter.
I could go on and on, but the point is that she was a wonderful teacher and person. And yet the fondest memory I have of her was what she named her cat. He was named “kç” as in k (kay) ç (sah-dee-ah). I thought it was such an “English teacher” way of spelling “quesadilla” and it fit Miss Morton perfectly. Wherever you are out there, Miss Morton…well, Mrs. Bradley now…I hope you are doing well. I hope you are happy, and that you know how much of an impact you had on my life. Thank you for being you.
