In every town, there is a legend whispered in the hallways of the local middle school. In ours, it was the legend of "Tricky Mary." To a twelve-year-old, Mary Better was a formidable enigma. She wore spectacles that seemed to magnify her eyes to the size of dinner plates, and she had a way of peering over them that made you feel like she could read your grocery list from three days ago.
Her last name was Better, and she lived up to it with a relentless, sometimes exhausting, pursuit of excellence. She didn't want "good" work. She didn't even want "great" work. She wanted your better version of yourself. tricky old teacher mary better
Years later, at a high school reunion, the name Mary Better came up. We laughed about the time she made us calculate the physics of a grocery store cart or the time she made us write poems about dirt. But then, the laughter settled into a quiet realization. In every town, there is a legend whispered