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Satisfactory Report

Mom has assured me my teacher, whose long, black veil, and forehead, encased in starched white - any sign of hair covered - whose black, laced-up shoes, is a woman. My teacher gathers a black robe over a white habit, and I hear shimmer of beads on beads; the sound of black rosaries looped beneath heavy, wool fabric. My bold, androgynous teacher then sits behind a blocky wooden desk, and bravely confronts a horde of sixty first graders. A woman? I'm skeptical. I fail to see female. Nonetheless, the line of fearless fountain pen S's on my report card clinches my respect.

Story by:

Mary Ellen Gambutti

ibisandhibiscusmelwrites.blogspot.com

22 July 2018