And here’s to you, Mrs. Souders gee I like you more than you will know… Woah woah woah

Sunday morning before heading off to church, my friend Diana sent me this photo of someone from our past—Alice Souders, our sophomore English teacher, recently moved into a nursing home and celebrated her 99th birthday.  God bless her.

I sat here and thought “I can name every English teacher from 7th to 12th grade without pause—Miss Devito in 7, Miss King in 8, Miss Doody in 9, Mrs. Souders in 10, Mrs. Fox in 11, Ms. Skirchak in 12th grade.” 

I could recall something memorable from each of those teachers too, and I liked every one.  Except Mrs. Souders.  In fact I disliked her a lot, until many years later.

From the 1956 Jeffersonian yearbook—her first year teaching at our high schoolShe looked very much like Margaret Hamilton to me (you know, the Wicked Witch of the West in Wizard of Oz) and seemed to have disdain for many of her students, especially the male ones.  At least it felt that way to me.  She had us read Shakespeare’s works—Hamlet, MacBeth, A Midsummer Night’s Dream and I wouldn’t appreciate those assignments until many years later.

In February 2017, I’d been living back in my hometown for 5 months (and was ready to move back to Pittsburgh).  I was in the local Giant Eagle in the bread aisle, and a woman tapped me on the shoulder and asked if I would get her a can of bread crumbs from the top shelf.  I recognized her instantly.  It was Mrs. Souders, the first time I’d seen her in 40 years.

Mrs. Souders in 1977, my sophomore year in high school

I said “Of course, Mrs. Souders” and got her the breadcrumbs.  She said “You know my name, are you a former student of mine?” 

I said I sure was, her 1976-77 year.  She said “You look very familiar, is your name Donald?”  I said no but she was close, my older brother’s name was Donovan and she taught him too.  I was Douglas, the second Morris brother.

She asked me what I’d been up to since high school, I told her I’d dropped out of college in 1982, then moved to Pittsburgh in 1986 to return to school and remained there.  I had just retired from a career in Information Technology.

She seemed genuinely interested, and jokingly asked if her class had helped any in my career path, and the next thing I knew we were laughing and having a warm, friendly conversation.  I said I remembered having to write a paper on Macbeth, and she gave me a C because what I turned in was boring and better suited for an encyclopedia.  She said “No!” and we both laughed so hard at that. 

I really did remember that, I worked hard on that paper and that lousy grade bothered me for a long time.

I told her that she gave us the option of writing a paper about Hamlet or memorizing his monologue “To be or not to be”, so I did the latter and could still recite most of it to this day.  She said “Can you recite it for me now?” and I don’t know how but I did—the first 6 lines anyway.  She said “Did I give you an A?”  I said I didn’t think so, I messed up a couple places the first time and we laughed again.

But I also told her when we were given Midsummer Night’s Dream to read and write a report on, I disliked it so much I wrote I had nothing good to say about it and was writing about a book I’d recently read instead.  I expected a failing mark, but at the top she wrote “This was not your assignment!  But you expressed how you felt like a man and I respect that.”  She gave me an A.  It’s the honest-to-God truth, and really stuck with me for a long time.  I can’t say the same about any other English teacher.

She said “Your memories honor me, sir.”  We hugged and said goodbye.  I can’t believe that was 8 years ago, it seems more recent than that.

So… a belated Happy Birthday, Mrs. Souders.  You weren’t my favorite then, but some things like wine & cheese (and teachers) definitely improve with age.