Our latest writing assignment for our Writers' Group is to talk about a teacher or mentor that had a good influence on our lives. For me, this was a "no-brainer"....
To Miss Costa
She stood slightly less than 5 feet tall and had grizzled gray-black hair pulled back tightly in a bun. Square glasses sat perched on her nose as if she was born with them on her face. They formed a permanent, almost angry, groove across the top of her nose. As for her body, she managed to pack about 200 pounds into a 110 pound frame; all in all, a tidy, neat power-house of a woman. And not one student dared to cross her – not ever! Her name was Miss Costa and she taught Italian. She was deathly serious about it as every kid who ever entered her classroom soon found out.
It was the 11th grade and I decided to switch from Spanish to Italian for two very good reasons: I had studied Spanish for 4 years and felt somewhat out of place in my family, most of whom spoke Italian. Secondly, I was tired of Spanish and wanted to learn another new language. What better one than one that was spoken by my various family members? I was in for a terrible surprise.
She asked me to stay after our first class and I thought, “Oh, boy! She is going to welcome me and tell me that she knows my family really well, and I am just going to have a wonderful time here!”, but little did I know the trouncing I was in for! Miss Costa clearly was not happy with me.
“WHY are you dropping Spanish, young lady?” she boomed with a frown knitting her eyebrows together. She was not happy with my choice, apparently, so she continued:
“Hmmmm…. So, you think you are just going to breeze through my class because you are Italian! Wrong! And, what’s more, you are making a horrible mistake by quitting Spanish after spending so many years on it. I will tell you this, my dear young woman: you had better not ever get anything less than 100 in my class!” she virtually thundered at me. My little talking-to had come to a close, and I was summarily dismissed.
Over the next two years, I not only managed to squeeze in four years of Italian, but I never got less than 100 percent on any test, quiz, or what-have-you in that class. It wasn’t that I was afraid of her, necessarily, but more as if after such a verbal dressing down, that I was going to show her a thing or two!
In fact, we had a project in my senior year that required us to make a representation of something of importance in Italy. I chose the Cathedral of Milan, with its 60-odd statues all around the eaves of the building. My statues were hand crafted out of tin foil, and the base of the church was a cardboard box, about 2 feet square. It took me 3 months to complete and hand-paint; but I will never forget the look on her face when I gave it to her. She actually had to turn away for a moment and blow her nose into a perfectly flat Kleenex. When she turned back to face me, her eyes were a bit red, as a tear, probably afraid to fall and ruin her perfectly applied facial powder, hovered precariously just above her plump cheek. Her voice cracked as she thanked me for my project. She did not smile. Needless to say, I got 100% for it.
At Graduation, I received a national award for my achievements. I had gotten the highest marks in the country in Italian 1 through 4. Miss Costa’s face bore a ghost of a smile as I went up to the podium to receive my award, but I have a feeling she was highly, although secretly, pleased.
This formidable woman taught me above all else that I could achieve great things if I wanted to badly enough, and if I really applied myself. I went on to accomplish some very worthy things in my life and each time I did accomplish some type of success, I would think of Miss Costa.
I was told that when she died about 10 years ago, her family found a small, gray cathedral made from a cardboard box in her spare room. She had kept it, neatly covered, all those years, and her express wishes for it were that a family member would keep it and then pass it on when his or her time came.
I salute you, Miss Costa, and thank you for making me believe in myself by pushing myself onward and upward. You were quite the lady, after all, and I hope you are smiling now as I write this!
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This is a photo of the actual cathedral in Milan, Italy. Each of the spires has a statue at the top. My little rendition didn't look quite this good <smile!> but I tried to recreate it as best as I could! It was a true labor of love for me and I only wish we had thought to take pictures of it.
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This is a photo of the actual cathedral in Milan, Italy. Each of the spires has a statue at the top. My little rendition didn't look quite this good <smile!> but I tried to recreate it as best as I could! It was a true labor of love for me and I only wish we had thought to take pictures of it.
