It was love at first sight. I was in third grade, and so was Theodore “Beaver” Cleaver. My teacher was a matronly woman nearing retirement. Beaver’s teacher was Miss Landers, a strikingly beautiful vision of an educator who dressed as if she was going dancing rather than teaching. I was smitten as a kitten, yearning for an episode of “Leave it to Beaver” that would include a scene of my true beloved.

But it wasn’t just her twinkling eyes or melting smile that held me captivated. It was also her voice … so soothing, so reassuring, so comforting. Why, even when she was scolding Beaver, I wished it were me.

“Oh,” I mused, “to be even struck by such melodious words …’twould be a soft caress to my heart.” Or, as Wally would say, “Gee whiz, you’re getting all goofy over your teacher.”