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Among a number of teachers with remarkable qualities and habits, at a high school I once taught at, Miss Davis stood out for two qualities. Her hair styles and being a good listener.
One day she looked adorable with her hair in pigtails and the next day she appeared regal and radical in a mile high Afro while another day her hair was meticulous yet relaxed with knotless braidery.
As for listening, whether you were a student or a teacher, she took time to understood your point of view. One time, Miss Davis happened to be in the office when the Principal showed annoyance over my turning in my paycheck hours at the last minute. Later, during lunchtime, Miss Davis asked how it felt, being called out by the Principal.
I feel miserable, I admitted.
Yes, I thought so. Just step up your game– make sure you’re not Last Minute Jane! Do that, and she’ll have nothing to blame you for.
Thank you!
She cared. She noticed.

“Oh, Miss Davis, I’m falling down in Algebra 1,” Alesha ran up to her one morning in the hall.
“I just don’t get the concept of f over x–and we’ve spent five days on it!”
“Can you come to my classroom during lunch?”
“Yes, Miss Davis, but I’ll have to pick up my lunch first.”
“If you give me your cafeteria passcode, I’ll pick up your lunch and bring it to you. I do that for two other students who come in for Algebra tutoring.”
“Thank you, Miss Davis. I’ll be there!”
“Don’t forget.”
“Oh, I won’t.”

Miss Davis gave up her lunch hour to tutor students in math, history, and language arts. Sometimes I joined the group to tutor essay writing or myth, legend, and folk tale.

One day, I mentioned to Miss Davis that a magazine had paid me for a featured article about neighborhood youth mural art and poetry.
Written by you, you say? Can you bring in the magazine? I’d love to read it.
Sure! I’m happy to.

Another day, I told her I’d won a book of poetry and a cash prize, coming in first in a poetry competition.
Wonderful! Would you like to bring in your prize.? I write prose. I love to read good poetry.
–Oh, I wish you could be in our writing group, but it accepts only people of colour!

All of us who teach language arts receive emails from a well-respected community tutoring organization, and the call went out for nominations for Teacher-of-the-Month. I conceived the happy idea of nominating Miss Davis.
Nominations letters from students and teachers have the best chance. Four or five of Miss Davis’ students wrote letters about she saved their life by explaining algebra. I gathered four or five of these letters in docs. We played a secrecy game, for we all agreed that we wouldn’t want Miss Davis to feel crestfallen in case she didn’t win.
Several teachers wrote in that she gives up her lunch hour to tutor students, she drops everything to listen actively to any problem a student may want to talk about, she stays until 8 p.m. to write up 40 page individualized education plans. Doctor Yemeni enthusiastically wrote that Miss Davis deserves to be nominated for Teacher-of-the-Year, of the Decade.
Nomination letters were sent in.
Miss Davis won for the month of August! Her picture was to appear in the organization’s newsletter and she was to be awarded one thousand dollars!
Miss Davis had won, but she hadn’t answered their request for a recent photo.
She’d transferred to another school. I volunteered to contact her and her fellow teachers,so they could remind her to read her emails, of which she had a backlogue of hundreds.
Within a week, she emailed me that she’d sent in her photo. She wondered if I could send her some of the nomination letters. I sent her the letter written by Doctor Yemeni.
Miss Davis emailed me back. She didn’t appreciate that I was giving others the impression that I’d nominated her. Clearly, she’d been nominated by Doctor Yemeni. The proof was his letter which I’d forwarded. Why was I taking credit for something I didn’t do?
I felt hurt, wrongly accused, and misunderstood.

Months later, we happened to cross paths at a protest rally. She smiled and said hello.
I didn’t stop to chat and simply walked on by.

I’d played a small part in the little mad miracle of securing Miss Davis recognition she fully deserves, but she believes I’m out to claim credit for a nomination that someone else wrote.
Go figure.