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You knew just by glancing at her, that she had not sought to be here, she did not have the fervor. Her hair was long and wavy in nature. She successfully ruined what might otherwise have been beautiful on her if she wore her hair down. By wearing her hair pulled up into a tight bun, I think it was actually lifting her loose skin on her wrinkled face, pulling it back and up, sort of creating the effects of a face-lift , without actually receiving a face-lift . But she would have needed to pull it back much tighter to make the winkles completely fade away. Her hair was salt and pepper in coloring, she was built slightly on the heavyset side. Her figure was very unflattering, not so bad at her later age, she was built like my grandmother, and probably not much younger, though of course an eight year old is a poor judge of this.  Her clothing looked well worn. I was flabbergasted that she was even married. Later sadly, I found out that she was in fact a widower, with the loss of her husband in a tragic mining accident two years earlier. All the life seem to be burn out in her face after that, her shoulders hung low, devoid of confidence, she always looked tired. She turned astringent as a consequence of her tragic loss - she only was teacher because she needed the money to feed her family, and there wasn’t a whole lot of jobs prospects of availability to women of this era, and in this horrible economy.
     
                  She talked in a very thunderous, commanding sort of voice-un-lady like, if you were to ask me. I was taught that women were supposed to be seen not heard – and she was the exact opposite to that of my mother. You can certainly appreciate when she communicated in this manner, to the class, it tended to frighten me every time she spoke - a voice that would normally be uncommon coming from a woman.
     
                  If that was not bad enough, she carried, always within arm’s reach of her, her ‘punishment rod`. What I am speaking of is a three-foot long, three quarters of a one-inch thick, wooden round dowel. I disco v ered its dimensions and makeup was significant - it had to be flexible, with that snap back, to successfully achieve the snapping stinging effect that she searched for, yet did enough not to break when she struck it on the poor waiting pupil’s exposed open palm, or butt. She was proficient and lightening fast with it, - it was as if it was an extension of her own arm. She was skillful to accomplish a swishing whipping sound. Sort of a sound a bee makes while flying by your ear. And trust me, you didn’t want to be the one that she was producing the sound for.
     
                  There was a female student in my class, which has started circulating an account spread fear around the classroom. The girl claimed that our teacher could pluck a fly out of mid-air. The story started when a girl named Anelie says she had personally witnessed the event, while showing up to class early one morning. She claimed that was coming out of the coat closet, located at the back end of the classroom, were the students stored their coats, and lunches. And she said she saw her do it, Everyone gained a new, quite awe for that rod and all of us grew to dread it.               Mrs. Kaczmarek preferred number one body site to smack you with her lightning dowel rod, the spot to achieve the supreme cutting stinging power was to slash the open end of both of your palms at the same time. Her reasons for taking such actions is that when in her warped view of the world - you were out of line, like talking out of turn, or heaven forbid answering a question incorrectly. She thought that you were not paying attention. Alternatively another reason to be struck by her was, just if she was in a bad sort of disposition for any given day, or perhaps she wanted to make a point. Our classroom was set up as a small dictatorship for all intents and purposes. We all grew to fear her