The Remarkable Miss C

As a kid, I never expected to become lifelong friends with my teacher

- Caroline Cremer

There's a small , brown brick house in Toronto, almost hidden by evergreens, that I visit from time to time. It's not the house that is special to me but, rather, the person who lives inside. I knock on the door and hear a singsong voice inviting me in.

“It's me, Miss C, I say as I take off my winter coat.

Put your boots under the heater, lovey, she says as she slowly appears in the hallway with her walker.

We give each other a long, tight hug. I walk into the living room and see books stacked neatly on the floor and pictures of her family and friends. I look over and smile at Winston, the same beloved dog puppet who once sat on Miss C's classroom piano years ago. Propped up on the mantel, he has a few holes in his arms now. Miss C puts aside her walker and sits down in her reclining chair. I sit close by and reflect on how fortunate I am to know such a remarkable woman.

I have adored Miss C ever since she became my kindergarten teacher, nearly 45 years ago. Her classroom seemed magical, filled with activity centres that sparked joy, curiosity, creativity and even comfort when needed. She had a piano and a ukulele, or uke, which sat under the easel, waiting to be played for eager four-year-olds. Near the window was a book corner, and next to that was the dress-up centre. Over by the cubbies were two long tables set up with bright paints, brushes and fresh paper. I remember starting my day there, painting pictures of my family.