There is something special to be said for kindergarten teachers. They are a rare and wonderful type of person. Mind you, it takes a special person to teach any age group, even college, but compared with a good kindergarten teacher, everyone else is just putting in a day’s work. Kindergarten teachers have a special ability of balancing discipline and affection. They can make a little boy feel he can accomplish anything if he just gives it some effort, and can make him feel distinctly dungish when he pulls the pony tails of the little girl next to him. (Cough.)

Mrs. Matter was my kindergarten teacher. She must have been pushing 60 when she taught me, but there was nothing about her that seemed "old," if you know what I mean, and there was no one in my class who didn’t adore her. We all trusted her and were eager to bring her Christmas presents or leave her May baskets, and no one really tried to get away from her without a kiss; running was all for show—that’s what you’re supposed to do when you leave a May basket: run, and the recipient is supposed to try to kiss you. And she always smelled softly like her perfume. (Mrs. Heckenlively, my grade one teacher, always smelled like peanut butter, cigarettes and coffee. No one left her May baskets.) It was on the occasion of my first recess in my first day of first grade that I happened to see Mrs. Matter on the playground. What a delight! I ran to greet her so that I could share the good news with her: "Mrs. Matter! Guess what! I’m in first grade now!"

"I know!" she answered, matching my enthusiasm note for note. I was distinctly puzzled. Tipping my head to one side I asked, "How did you know?"

If I had asked such a question to Mrs. Heckenlively, she might have rolled her eyes, or shaken her head aghast that I lived so long, or maybe even massaged her temples and simply walked away. Not Mrs. Matter. Mrs. Matter, without so much as flinching, answered, "Because you’re so big!" Not only did she make my day, she made my whole year—for a second year in a row.

I don’t know if it was that she was such a blessing to others or that she was so blessed by others, but Mrs. Matter lived to the ripe-old age of 105. She passed away just this last summer. It was in the news back home; my dad sent me the article. It’s funny, but, I had barely thought about her at all for 30 years, and all of the sudden, I feel sorry that I never went to visit her to give some of her own back. Is it possible to miss a person you haven’t seen since grade 8? Well, perhaps, on my next visit to the town where I grew up I can stop by Mrs. Heckenlively’s house. Toilet paper isn’t all that expensive, and it cleans up easily enough, given time.