Dorothy Hawley, the angel teacher

Many of us begin the New Year with positive thoughts about our past and hopes for your future. Who drifted into my thoughts yesterday? My beloved high school French teacher, Mlle. Dorothy Hawley.

She looked a little like Lilian Gish. She was elegant and positive and dreamy in many ways. She taught the little philistines at Viscount Bennett High School the French language by singing us through it. The only reason I can conjugate or compose some sentences in French is by remembering, to the tune of John Donne, “Je me suis couche! Me suis couche! Je me suis couche! Me suis couche! Je me suis couche! Je ne me suis pas couche! Passe compose de verbes comme de coucher!”
We sang our little hearts out while she conducted. Maybe some of the boys felt a little silly, but we sure learned our French grammar, spelling mistakes above, aside.

I am grateful to Mlle. Hawley for her joy in the unexpected and the original. While other teachers might quash the eccentric and artistic imagination in somebody like me, she gave every impression of delighting in the unusual voice and child who essayed creative expression.

In retrospect, I might not have survived high school without her. How I regret taking a pass on the last high school reunion, not wanting to see the butch girls who had beaten me up on the basketball court, or the trashy gals who ridiculed me in the hallways (gee whiz, just because I was what was known as A Brain, go figure ….) Only after the fact, did I hear that my beloved Mlle. Hawley was at the reunion. How I wish I had attended and told her what she meant to me.

I went to her funeral a few years ago and cried like a baby.

If I am an artist and a writer, it is because of Mlle. Hawley and her wild, creative, feminine, courageous spirit.

Happy New Year! As they say, if you can read this, thank a teacher!

Linda