Page 147 - She's One Crazy Lady!

and that they were already thinking about what hats they would be designing and wearing.
“What hat will you be wearing Miss Hooper?”
I hadn’t given this any thought at all.
“I’m not sure,” I replied. “What kind of hat do you think I should
wear?”
“Are you clever?” she asked.
“Am I clever? What do you mean?”
“Well, you’re a teacher. Did you have to pass any tests to be a
teacher?”
“Yes, lots!”
Where was this going?
“And did you get a certificate for passing your tests?”
“Yes, I did.”
“And did you go on stage to get your certificate?”
“Yes, I did.”
She was in full flow.
“And when you went on stage did you wear a special hat, you know,
oh, I can’t remember what it’s called. You know, it’s black, it’s flat and it has a tassel...”
“Oh, yes, a mortar board.”
“That’s it. Well Miss Hooper, you’ve got to wear one of those but yours has got to be pink because you’re a teacher of breast cancer now.”
Those words: “You’re a teacher of breast cancer now.” Is that how she, how they, the children/parents perceived things? I was lost for words, and felt choked, for out of the mouths of babes came one of the most surprising, yet most deep and moving comments, I think, ever. A teacher of breast cancer? How can anyone be a teacher of breast cancer?
“Right,” I said, composing myself. “That’s a great idea – I’d better try and get one then, hadn’t I?” – as if you could just go to the shops
“And when you went on stage did you wear
a special hat, you know,
oh, I can’t remember what it’s called. You know, it’s black, it’s flat and it has a tassel...
”
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