She was bubbly and vivacious, with olive skin and the most beautiful curls I'd ever seen. She kept a cozy bathtub reading nook in the corner of our classroom, took us on cursive letter "roller-coaster rides," and when she read The Secret Garden, even the boys were captivated. 3rd grade with Mrs. Gaugler was F-U-N!
In September, she took maternity leave to deliver a baby girl. And in February, only a few weeks after her return, she was gone again... this time forever.
It was a blistery Ground Hog's Day-- typical of northern Indiana winters-- and for the life of me, I can't remember if the groundhog saw its shadow. I do remember though, very vividly, being one of the last students to leave the classroom that day, and I remember what Mrs. Gaugler was wearing-- maroon corduroys and a woven sweater, her hair pinned back with a flowery clip.
Later that night, I came home from Wednesday night church to a somber answering machine message from our principal, Mr. Fry. On her way home from school that afternoon, Mrs. Gaugler had been killed in a car accident.
I remember the disbelief, the shock, and running to my room in tears. And I remember thinking, "Someday, I want to take her place."
I went on to study elementary education, largely due to Mrs. Gaugler's influence (as well as the many other teachers who poured into my life). This degree led to teaching positions in Indiana, Spain, and India-- all of which played a significant role in making me who I am today.
In September, she took maternity leave to deliver a baby girl. And in February, only a few weeks after her return, she was gone again... this time forever.
It was a blistery Ground Hog's Day-- typical of northern Indiana winters-- and for the life of me, I can't remember if the groundhog saw its shadow. I do remember though, very vividly, being one of the last students to leave the classroom that day, and I remember what Mrs. Gaugler was wearing-- maroon corduroys and a woven sweater, her hair pinned back with a flowery clip.
Later that night, I came home from Wednesday night church to a somber answering machine message from our principal, Mr. Fry. On her way home from school that afternoon, Mrs. Gaugler had been killed in a car accident.
I remember the disbelief, the shock, and running to my room in tears. And I remember thinking, "Someday, I want to take her place."
I'd always dreamed of becoming a teacher. We had a set of old green desks from my grandparents' house, and I'd set my dolls in those desks (and perhaps, on a cooperative day, my younger sister as well), and proceed with roll call. But that day when Mrs. Gaugler died, I knew for certain that one day I would be a real teacher, just like her.
I went on to study elementary education, largely due to Mrs. Gaugler's influence (as well as the many other teachers who poured into my life). This degree led to teaching positions in Indiana, Spain, and India-- all of which played a significant role in making me who I am today.
Thank you, Mrs. Gaugler, for the mark you left on my life.
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