Mrs. Monell took us away for a weekend once to a friend's house in the country. We hunted crayfish and stepped in cow patties. I accidentally broke a screen door. Robby broke a window sash. Sarah cried. The lawn was getting chewed up by our kickball games. Mrs. Monell's friend's house was falling down around her ears. I thought she was going to yell at us, but she didn't. Why did 20 excited, bickering children not affect her the way they would other adults, including our parents?Education is on the national agenda these days. It's clear there are things that can be done to make it more likely that more children will get an experience like the one I had. But my brother Eric, who attended the same school I did and had three teachers for those years, can't remember their names, suggesting that teaching when it succeeds is as much personal as structural.I came to see years later that not every teacher would be like her — caring, innovative, ambitious for us and wholly without boredom or cynicism. But we didn't know that then, and Mrs. Monell wouldn't have wanted us to know.