Mrs. H was an old fashioned teacher who wore her hair in a tight bun and a blouse that buttoned up high that was always finished off by a sparkly, but not too sparkly, brooch. When I met her the first day of fourth grade I was afraid of her sternness and her long homework assignments. We were given an assignment to write a poem about our favorite color and to my great relief the writing came to me quickly. The next morning, I was so excited to share my poem with her. When I handed it in, her reply was curt. "You did NOT write this." I was aghast. No matter what I said, she would not believe that my poem about the color red was mine! I don't know where my moment of bravery came from, but before I knew it I said, "Give me another word to write about and I'll write a poem about it right now." She agreed. So, I wrote. Thankfully, the words came. The poem was written and she knew that writing was something I had a natural knack for. I somehow, was ...