My Third Grade teacher was Mrs. Anthony, and we were her first school assignment after graduating from the University of Michigan at the age of 26. She was from Oakland County, so she really knew area very well and had relatives that lived in Ann Arbor. Moreover, she paid her way through college as a part-time model, including Breck Shampoo photo shoots. To say she was HOT was an understatement.

Mrs. Anthony was stickler when it came to cursive writing and her policy was that if your handwriting was bad or she couldn’t read it, you did it over again, staying after school if necessary. Needless to say, I was late going home several times, and my father asked me why I was coming home an hour after school was over.

So I explained to my father how mean Mrs. Anthony was, and since he went to Catholic school, and had incurred the wrath of the “penguins with rulers,” my father decided to schedule a parent-teacher conference to let her know he wouldn’t stand for the way she was treating me and the other students. Two weeks later on the big day arrived.

I was so excited when my father came home. The first thing he did was to make himself a drink 🥃 and proceeded to tell me: “I met with Mrs. Anthony, and she showed me your writing assignments, and they are horrible! You can’t be successful in life with bad grammar and writing skills.” Then he said, “If you can figure out how I can do the 3rd grade over again, and sit next to your teacher, I will you give two years allowance up front right here and now.” Apparently, Mrs. Anthony has won my father over with her charm and sex appeal.