There’s teachers you remember, and teachers you remember. And I remember my fourth grade teacher, Mrs. VeVea.

Basically it’s because I disliked her intently. Dreaded going to school disliked. Was terrified of her disliked. Hated is probably a more accurate term.

She was a strict disciplinarian, a thin-lipped disapproving woman with the demeanor of a drill sergeant and the same tragic Brillo Pad hairstyle as TV painter Bob Ross.

Her favored punishment was to make students “write words” ¹ a la Bart in The Simpsons opening credits. She would start students off with five sentences and escalate with each... More