A Teacher Who Can Learn From Their Students Is Worth An Arm And A Leg

When I was in fifth grade, our teacher had to leave unexpectedly. She was already planning to go on maternity leave, but something happened, and we ended up with a long-term substitute sooner than expected.

On her first day, the substitute (a strict, no-nonsense woman, who, reflecting back on this, was probably in her sixties and on the way to full retirement) laid out her rules.

The substitute suddenly zeroed in on me, asking:

Sub: “Why are you hiding your arm in your shirt?”

I froze, confused. She asked again. Then, her tone grew sharper, and I started to cry. I was overwhelmed and didn’t know how to explain.

My classmates, even the ones who usually didn’t care about me when I was bullied, rallied around me, trying to explain to her what was going on as I sat there in the middle of the class crying. 

One of my friends whispered to me:

Friend: “Show her your leg.”

I hesitated but rolled up my pant leg to reveal my prosthetic leg. I was born without my right arm at the shoulder and with a birth defect in my right leg that meant it was amputated above the knee when I was two. 

She looked mortified. She apologized profusely, both to the class and to me. 

Later, she pulled me aside for a private conversation, where she apologized again and promised to be more understanding. Most of the class hated her, her strictness didn’t win her any fans. I actually liked her. Her rules meant fewer people bullied me, and that incident helped us form a connection.