The other night I went out to eat with a few friends and had a real nice time. We ate at PF Changs and talked a lot. A “funny” thing happened when we were leaving. A young hostess stopped me and said, “Can I ask you a quick question?” I said, “Sure!,” thinking she might ask where I got my shirt or what products I use in my hair. I don’t know….that is just where I thought she might go. But no. She decided to say this: “Are you Mrs. Dorminy?”
Um, no. I’m Kristy. Mrs. Dorminy was the name folks called my mother-in-law when she was at work.
I said, “Uh-yes,” and searched her cute young face to jog my memory of where I knew her from.
“You taught me 7th grade at Webb Bridge.”
I said, “Oh, really? I am so old. How old are you???”
“Twenty-two.”
My friends proceed to get a kick out of me being called Mrs. Dorminy, and they loved being witness to that whole conversation.
I MUST add (because otherwise I just feel old) that she did say I was the most beautiful teacher she ever had.
Vain? Maybe, but her kind words buffered the blow of the whole 9 years ago you were my seventh grade teacher, Mrs. Dorminy thing.