I was shocked that teachers could look as beautiful as Miss Malone. I guess being a senior in a small High School skewed me to believe teachers were all older ladies who did not care for my class clown antics. My first day of Drama class tought me otherwise.
She was a vision. Her Pencil skirt and simple white blouse hid what would fuel many wrestless nights moving forward. Long sandy blonde hair held in a bun with a pencil and expensive shoes that clicked the floor made my heart jump. And of course glasses. My 18 year old body was a prisoner to her before she ever spoke.
She took to me. Molded my acting talents. Letting me explore feelings and emotions in her class with no judgement. Gently nudging me to do better. To be better. Always kind and classy. Always on my young mind.
I was able to win her trophies in competion. She beemed with pride at my acomplishments. Miss Malone was my only cheerleader at times. It was very hard for me when I graduated and had to give up my fantasies of her and dreams of acting. But life goes on. I had to move on to the real world. Find my own way.