What I Learned from Mrs. Magee

You may recall in my earlier posting, My Imagination and Me, that I told you I occasionally had teachers who took exception with my imagination. I’d like to share a story with you about Mrs. Magee, a first grade teacher who not only disliked my imaginative tendencies, but disliked me personally. Now you may ask yourself, “How could anyone truly dislike a little six year-old child, especially a teacher?” Let me tell you, just like the trapeze artist flying through the air, this woman did it with the greatest of ease.

From what I can remember, it began with the weekly spelling tests. Our test papers had western themed graphics (cowboys, horses, etc.) printed on them and whenever I finished a test, I would draw a little cowboy way up in the corner of my paper. Now, as a young child, I didn’t realize what was happening, but I always received a grade of ‘F’ on my test, despite the fact that I spelled every word correctly. In addition, I would also receive very low grades in my quarterly report cards on all the rest of my subjects despite receiving mostly ‘A’ grades on all of my assignments.

Naturally, this didn’t add up, so during a scheduled parent-teacher conference, my mother inquired as to what was going on. Mrs. Magee hemmed and hawed, but had no real answers until it came out, during the course of the meeting, that I was the child of a single-parent adoption. Mrs. Magee’s manner changed from hostile to polite in the blink of an eye. She said to my mother, “He’s adopted? I didn’t realize. In that case, he won’t be getting anymore ‘Fs’ on his assignments.” What I could not have understood as a child was that Mrs. Magee thought I was the product of an illegitimate birth, and she was not about to treat one of those children with even a modicum of kindness or respect.

During the nearly six months I spent in Mrs. Magee’s classroom, I was the object of her discriminations on a daily basis. I would be picked last for any class activity, I received only leftovers or crumbs during class celebrations, such as birthdays, and she would encourage other children to tease and hit me.

On one particular day that is etched indelibly in my memory, I was coming out of the school restroom when another student kicked the door open from the other side, hitting me square in the forehead. I was thrown to the floor and nearly knocked unconscious. Naturally, I began to cry uncontrollably and a crowd of children gathered to see what the commotion was. Mrs. Magee arrived on the scene and the children told her what happened. Her response to me, “Why don’t you look where you’re going next time, stupid.”

 That was my last day in that school. I soon moved to another school where I stayed until we moved to Arizona in 1981. I don’t know what ever became of Mrs. Magee, but she taught me a lot… about hate… intolerance… and believe it or not… kindness. Because being on the receiving end of such discrimination is a difficult, but profound way to learn to love.