The most memorable relationship I had with a person from another generation happened a long time ago when I was a fifth grade student at P.S. 48 in the South Bronx. Her name was Mrs. Tate and she was my teacher. The relationship we had is special and lasting in many ways. What I learned from the relationship, and what I got out of it, became part of my life as I grew up. Mrs. Tate was something to look at. She was about 40 years old or so, a tall black woman with red hair. She had the kindest brown eyes, and when she looked at me, I knew she was really seeing me. She was married and had a son who was about my age.
Her son Darrell and I became best friends as a result of the relationship Mrs. Tate and I shared.
At the time I met Mrs. Tate, I had personal family problems that were affecting how I felt, how I dealt with life and with school. I always knew the difference between right and wrong, but my emotional state was such that I had a hard time concentrating and focusing in school. Because of this, I had some difficulties in l
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