Pen-Pals

My first grade teacher and I are pen-pals. (Snail mail, ink and paper pen-pals). We’ve been writing letters since she retired and moved down South, some thirteen years ago.

Before she moved away at the end of her last year teaching, she visited each of the classrooms of students she had taught, took pictures with us, and gave out her new address. One rainy day that summer I wrote her a letter and she wrote back. So I wrote back. And she wrote back. So I wrote back. And, more than a decade later, we continue to write back and forth, letters passing between us a few times a year.

My life simplifies itself when I put it down on a note card and mail it off. I update my teacher on the main events in my life and the lives of her former students (ex. beginning of a new semester, graduation, family occasions, engagements and marriages and babies of my classmates, and of course, book recommendations).

Here is a small sampling from her letters over the years, for your reading pleasure (I wish I had copies of my letters to her!):

February 2005: “I can’t believe you’re old enough for The Hobbit!…When you grow up I think you should do something that makes you very happy. Then you’ll be paid for doing what you love. That’s why I found teaching so great!”

April 2007: [typed] “Look at this! I finally got a computer & took a few lessons. Obviously they didn’t include starting new paragraphs… [handwritten] P.S. It printed! P.P.S. I don’t even remember what a polynomial is.”

May 2007: “I…have a red sailboat but I can’t sail so that must wait for [son’s name] to return from Iraq. He tells me nothing because I talk too much and it’s all secret!”

November 2008: “[Son’s name] received a 2 week vacation and came here to spend most of it…He wanted John McCain to win the election because he fears Iraq and Afghanistan will fall apart if the war ends…My hand is becoming cramped so will wish you luck with your math and say ‘good-bye’ for awhile.”

March 2009: “You can’t have your driver’s permit. I just can’t believe you’re so grown up! 1st grade seems like last year…I’m enclosing a recipe for chocolate macaroons. I had them the other day at a party. The recipe comes from a magazine article ‘Cookies for Passover’ and are wonderful. Better let your mother check that they’re OK.”

June 2010: “It is astounding to me that you have reached this milestone! First grade seems like yesterday. What are your plans for your next step? I’m proud of you and so happy that we’ve kept in touch.”

August 2010: “And…you’re leaving for Israel…I’d be delighted to continue writing. I’d like to learn about Israel.”

May 2011: “I think of [you] girls often and hope all is well. Could you tell me how old everyone is?”

November 2011: “Loved hearing from you with your descriptions of your time in Israel. I also enjoy learning what your former classmates are doing. It’s hard to believe how grown up you all are!”

August 2012: “You are a font of information! I can’t believe all these engagements and weddings. I still imagine these girls as first graders. I can’t believe they are grown up enough to be engaged or brides! I love hearing the news.”

June 2013: “I can’t believe how many of ‘my little girls’ are getting married…These days [name of town] must be a daily festival.”

September 2013: “It’s difficult to imagine little [names of friends] as grown-up mothers. I’m sure they delight in the role.”

January 2014: “As a teacher I had hoped to share my love of reading with my students and apparently I succeeded. Your letters make me so happy…Please remember me to your family and friends. Those were such happy laughter-filled years.”

July 2015: “Congratulations on your Master’s! I’m so proud of you…Have many of the girls have gone on for graduate degrees?”

Oh, reading through this huge stack of letters was such a wonderful trip down memory lane (even if it is long after 1 am…) Whatever happens in my adult life, in this stack of envelopes, I’ll be a little girl forever.

3 Comments

  1. rosesarered

    I second that! That’s amazing!
    I thought I read here that you grew up in Brooklyn going to Beis Yaakovs. It’s surprising to me that a Brooklyn Beis Yaakov would have a first grade teacher who isn’t frum.

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