Miss Wallace 1963

In 1963 we called our teachers Miss, Mrs., or Mr. The prefix "Ms." did not exist. Miss Wallace was not married. I don't think 8 year-olds cared. I sure didn't. Miss Wallace could never be a "Miz."

I think every person who ever went to elementary school has a favorite teacher. Mine was Miss Wallace. I am sure there were many facets to her personality that I was not aware of. (I think she would say that it is OK to end a sentence with the preposition "of.") After all, she was my teacher. I was her student. And, in the haze of fading memory I still recall how very kind she was. But, more than that, she believed in creativity as a basis for education. In Second Grade I became a master of printing letters almost an inch high on our gray-tan paper with the light blue solid and dotted lines. Cursive writing was not to be experienced before the Third Grade.

For Miss Wallace, nice printing was not enough. "Michael, write a story and draw some pictures to go with it." I became an illustrating MACHINE! I even helped other kids with some of their drawings. But, boy...David Major was one heck of an illustrator! He taught me how to draw jet airplanes. We wrote stories every week. Miss Wallace would "grade" the stories with a 'check' or 'check plus' and always stamped the first page with an inked impression of the latest seasonal character. A witch, a pumpkin, Santa, an Easter egg. I think she invented rubber stamps. When the school year was over I had an inch thick book of stories and illustrations. From "My Summer Vacation" to "Super Dexter," my foray into this new world of illustrated fables was just the beginning.

One big problem. Miss Wallace also loved clay and sculpture. She had us modeling animals, people, dragons,

fish, plants, and anything else we could imagine. Then, she would fire many of our projects in a kiln. It was magical!

Miss Wallace brought out my inner Charles Schulz AND

my inner Auguste Rodin. Me, Chuck, and Augey. The Sculptor prevailed over the Cartoonist for most of my life.

Thanks again to Miss Wallace for the kickstart to a life and career of fantasy creatures, dolls, teddy bears, sculpted figures, and silly stories. She is NOT to blame for the sleepless nights trying to get them to leave me alone.