My Beautiful Third Grade Teacher - Essay Sample

Published: 2021-08-15 18:06:49
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Middlebury College
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Back in third grade, Mondays were not my cup of tea. There was something about Mondays that would lower my spirits and dim my shine momentarily especially when the thought of it crossed my mind while having a good time over the weekend. For that reason, Sunday afternoons always felt like a countdown to reality, and no matter how much I wished that the weekend would last, it was practically the shortest time of the week. From assignments to school bullies, fake friends, new concepts to learn and early mornings, Mondays were my kryptonite. However, despite how dark and gloomy the day was, or at least, how I planned it out in my mind, there was one thing that was certain to brighten up my day; Mrs. White, my third-grade teacher.

My third-grade teacher was an attractive and gorgeous lady. Her face was charming and demanded much attention from whoever was looking at her. It was almost impossible to disobey her wishes or even say no to her when she was looking into your eyes. She had the kind of eyes, students avoided, and other teachers admired. Rumor had it that if you looked straight into her eyes long enough, you could feel yourself falling for her. Mrs. White was the kind of lady whose emotions were easily visible from her innocent face and her pain vivid in the crease of her well-structured brow. But her eyes, her eyes were windows to her souls, and they were more like small deep pools of priceless gold. Her bright yellow face possessed high, structured cheekbones that easily couldve been mistaken for the looks of royalty. Her smooth, pink lips were always moist making them glisten in the light, which makes you want to lean in and steal a kiss.

Secondly, she had a rich texture of long, caramel-toned hair that looks so soft that it would melt in the palms of your hand. Her hair ran from the top of her head all the way to the middle of her back. As you look at her hair, you notice how the light catches its every move and gently flows down her back. Taking a glimpse of her hair can easily take grasp of your mind and deny you of any other thoughts about anything else going on around you. It was the kind of hair that made anyone who took a keen interest in it want to stroke it even for a while. I always refrained coming too close to her when she was marking my work or whenever she would call me to the front to explain something; primarily because I feared that the urge to feel her hair would be so great that it would take the better of me.

Mrs. White had the understated beauty. Perhaps this could have been attributed to the fact that she was disarmingly unaware of her prettiness. I always wondered whether she used expensive face masks or beauty products because her style revolved around simplicity. Her light brown eyes staring directly into your eyes would make you shiver with excitement and nervousness. They seem to cast a spell on you causing you to forget your surroundings and state of being. At such a young age, I knew she had more beauty and charisma than the average woman and continues to this day.

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