The Not-So-Snow Day in September

It was a Tuesday morning in September.  Third grade had just started barely two weeks earlier and I was getting used to my new teacher, Mrs. Crowe.  She had long red curls and big brown eyes. When she talked, any topic she brought up was bright and cheery. She made math sound like the happiest thing in the world.  Walking around as we worked on our workbooks, enthusing about how “math was the key to everything” and telling us if “we could multiply and divide, you could do anything” in that happy, cheery voice of hers.  Some days, I believed what she said to be true.