Crock’s Thoughts

Everyone has that one teacher who left an indelible mark on their life. For me, it was Mrs. Lopez—first grade teacher and a woman who probably still has PTSD from trying to teach me how to spell “elephant.”

Let’s just say I wasn’t exactly Speedy Gonzalez when it came to learning in my early years—luckily this slow start changed in my later grades. While the other kids were zipping through their reading logs like mini Einsteins, I was out here confusing the number 3 with the letter E and thinking “cat” was spelled with a silent Q.

But Mrs. Lopez didn’t give up on me. Instead of sending me off into the summer with a pat on the head and a “better luck next year,” she continued to teach me—yes, during her own summer break. She could’ve been sipping lemonade by a pool, but instead she was teaching me vowel sounds like her retirement depended on it.

And thanks to her patience, persistence, and possibly witchcraft, I made it to second grade. Some called it a miracle. I called it Mrs. Lopez.

Years later, I visited her at her retirement, mostly to apologize for how many headaches I probably caused. But there she was, same warm smile, twinkle in her eye, and full of gratitude for my visit.

Mrs. Lopez wasn’t just a teacher—she was an angel disguised as a schoolteacher. The kind who doesn’t give up on kids, even when those kids are mixing up crayons and french fries. She believed in me before I even knew how to tie my shoes—still working on that, honestly.

Here’s to you, Mrs. Lopez. You deserve all the gold stars in the world!