Effie Foster

By Gary White

My email a few days ago brought me this picture of Effie Foster, our sixth grade teacher at Cedar Vale grade school. This picture was taken several months ago. What memories came flooding back when I saw that familiar face!

I can say that we had a lot of good teachers during our years in the Cedar Vale public schools. Just consider the accomplishments of our little class of 35 students. Of all the teachers I had, however, Mrs. Foster was the most distinctive. It was clear to me that Mrs. Foster was living a passionate life. She approached everything she did with verve and heart. When she read us Uncle Tom’s Cabin, Mrs. Foster openly wept at the sad chapters. When discipline was necessary Mrs. Foster had fire in her eyes. Every lesson was a new adventure for her, and for us. Mrs. Foster was a big, raw boned farm woman who was a force of nature.

The sixth grade classroom at Cedar Vale grade school also served as the school library. Mrs. Foster was the librarian for the whole school. She encouraged me to devour as many books in that library as I could. The library was not regularly expanded and most of the books were antiques even at that time. That library would bring a pretty sum today if it was sold on eBay. I would finish my lessons before some of my classmates and walk to the back of the room to peruse the stacks. To call them stacks is a slight exaggeration because there were only three or four floor-to-ceiling bookshelves in the library and part of those were devoted to younger children’s books. I think I pulled down and looked at every book on those shelves during my sixth grade year and some I read from cover to cover.

Mrs. Foster had fiery red hair that just matched her disposition. She was hardly a model of femininity. In fact, she took little note of details of her appearance. My mother related a story about Bob Hays talking with his mother, Flo. If Bob is lurking about online here he can corroborate or deny the veracity of this story. Anyway, this is how it was told to me. It seems that Bob, who was always aware of the details of his surroundings, asked his mother, “Mom, would it be alright for me to tell Mrs. Foster when her underskirt is showing?” “Oh, my, no, Bob, Mrs. Foster’s slip has been showing for years. Just ignore it.”

Mrs. Foster presided over a group of children who were on their way to becoming adults. Hormones were running high and boys and girls were beginning to take a new interest in each other. Mrs. Foster took all this as a matter of course and dealt with it head on, just as she did everything else. She was, in short, the perfect teacher at the perfect time in my life. I left the sixth grade a very different, and more mature person than I was coming in. I can’t thank Mrs. Foster enough for her wonderful, blunt approach to teaching and to life. And Mrs. Foster, if you are reading this, many happy returns on your 100th birthday. (See Effie's 100th birthday for a picture taken at her celebration.)