The new class teacher

There are moments in life that you never forget. And it was one of those moments that I thought of this morning when a former schoolmate, with whom I had graduated from high school a long, long time ago, emailed me and asked me the name of a former classmate.

We were at a convent school run by nuns, a lyceum (in Germany a high-school only attended by girls) with well over 1000 students at the time. About 50% of the teachers were sisters, the other 50% were secular teachers, that's what they were called. A good mixture.

In the 3rd year we had to decide which second foreign language we wanted to learn. Latin or French. The class communities separated accordingly. And our French class was supposed to have a new class teacher.

We stood outside in the schoolyard, at the end of the break, well-behaved in a queue and waiting for the school bell to call us back to class. I had a lively conversation with a friend and unintendedly stepped out of line when I heard a loud scream. I had stepped a nun hurrying past - she wore sandals - fully on her foot. She was upset and uttered non-Christian curses. Whether I could not watch where I was stepping. Into the stammering of my apology the school bell rang. Back to the classrooms.

There were about 20 of us, staring at the door in anticipation. And then it opened and our new class teacher entered. With quick steps and full swing.

And I thought I was going to be hit. I would have liked best to drop my head on the tabletop. Or even better, evaporating into invisibility. The "new one" was exactly the same disgruntled nun whom I met about ten minutes earlier when stepping on her foot at full tilt.

She introduced herself as Sister Angelika, our future class and French teacher. And: she was also the headmistress of the school. With a reputation preceding her like a thunderclap. She wanted to lead her own class again after years of purely administrative work. And I thought: Definitely my day.

But as life goes. Man proposes, God disposes. Sister Angelika loved her new job and was a very good and fair teacher. And her reputation was like a protection for us, her class. Moreover, she was able to bring the necessary discipline to our class community by position and personality. Which was also very good for the cooperation among us girls.

She has remained in both offices for the following seven years until the A-levels. As our class teacher and as headmistress. And I could not have imagined a better one.

We were still in contact years later after I had moved to Bavaria. And I was always pleased to receive her somewhat more detailed letter at the turn of the year. Her beautiful, even handwriting was always the same.

With a tear in my eye. Many thanks, Sister Angelika!

© Solandra (September 11th, 2020)

Translated with the help of DeepL

Proofread by the author

Photo by Element5 Digital on Unsplash