How I learned to draw the Easter Bunny in Grade 3 (and still do).
Also, possibly why I did not become an illustrator.

It’s rarely the “good” students teachers remember – the ones who show up every day with hair and teeth brushed, clean clothes and shy smiles. But for students, some teachers remain dear to our hearts throughout our lives.

My brother texted me last night a message with three exclamation points. “You’ll never believe who I ran into!!!”

He had met up with a woman who had taught all of us siblings. We all adored her. She was gentle and kind and I was flooded with these lovely images of being in Grade 3. I remember standing by my desk to read stories aloud, an abysmal sequencing assignment, making “little houses and driveways” to learn how to write big math numbers, and art every week.

It was a year of love letters, the year I became the only kid in school to wear glasses, and when I refused to wear snow pants because they made “little kid noises” when I walked.

My brother filled her with news of us and she filled him with news of others.

She claimed to remember us, but I doubt she did. We’d have been unremarkably punctual and well-mannered.

“She still loves me!” he said. And that, my friends, is a teacher at her (or his) best. She loves her students and makes each feel as if he or she is her most favourite – even decades later.

I assured my brother that she loved him best of all and always would. How could she not remember someone as adorable as him? It was his last line that got me: “She’s so proud of you!”

And you know, I smiled and my eyes filled with tears: She’s proud of me! She still loves me best.

Who was your favourite teacher? And why?