My favorite teacher didn't teach me to write a book report.
But he did teach me to ride a bike.
He didn't teach me to sit up straight in class.
Instead, he taught me to jump up and yell when our team scored a touchdown.
My favorite teacher is my dad. The important things he taught by example. I can't remember my dad ever using the words "Work Ethic". He didn't have to. He lived the words every day of his life.
Once I sat on his knee and asked him why he couldn't just write a check and buy whatever I wanted. Now we discuss which tax software is better. I miss the innocence of those days, but I'm glad now that I can understand a little of how hard he worked for us.
I wonder if he sees me still as six years old, just as I still see him as being tall as a tree.
I love you, dad!
Text only © 2000 Michelle Efird
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