This past Mother's Day I traveled eastward down the highway to visit my parents...alone. This solitary trip, minus my three "mini-me's", was my Mother's Day gift from my husband, and I loved it. This gift ranked right up there with last year's gift.
*You'll have to read page 142 of my book to find out what it was (smile). Anyway, I digress...
As the day began to wind down, I decided to visit my aunt who was in a rehabilitation facility. Much like old times, my sister, who also tried to do a solo trip (unsuccessfully I might add), and I piled in a van with our dad and my niece to go visit the "sick and shut in". After arriving there, we tipped quietly through the halls until we got to my auntie's room.
Since my aunt was sharing a room, we had to wait a bit after knocking to make sure everyone was decent. I rocked back on my heels and peered around the hall and locked eyes with an elderly lady propped up in her bed directly across the hall from my aunt.
"Hello", I waved.
"Love your shirt!", she replied.
I looked at the name plate near her door so that I could reply with a bit more personal "thank you" and felt a jolt when I read the name. I jabbed my sister in the ribs.
"Do you see that name?" I whispered.
"Yup!", she whispered back.
I hailed the nurse who was getting ready to enter the room and asked her if she knew if they lady inside had been a teacher at my former high school. She shrugged, but said she'd inquire. My ears grew large as I anticipated the reply. There was no denying that face. It had to be her.
"Why yes. I did teach at Warwick High School!", the elderly woman in the bed exclaimed.
Well roll me up and call me Curly. My sister and I did everything but give each other high fives and made our way into the room.
There she was, our twelfth grade English teacher, Mrs. Williams. Although my sister and I had her six years apart, she was still an icon in both of our books. She came from the time that female teachers wore dresses and skirts and English teachers corrected your English mid sentence. She was from dignity, closed doors to "tell you a thing or two", chalk dust and essays about the American Flag. She was there when we got there and there when we left.
As we sat there filling in each other on the past twenty five years, I couldn't help but recall my reluctance towards writing in her class. Amazingly, she did remember a
Julius Caesar project of mine (it was very original and apparently never to be duplicated). Consequently I felt I had to apologize for not giving her my best, but "Hey", I quipped, "I wrote a book!"
I walked out of her room a half an hour later with an intense euphoric sensation. However, I wasn't the only one to be blessed by that encounter. While it felt great to express to someone else that their hard work was not in vain, my dad finally got that parent teacher conference he wanted and Mrs. Williams received a twenty five and thirty year old "thank you" from two former students on a day in which she exclaimed she had been feeling really down.
I guess I said all of that to say this; you never know where or when you will meet your former students later in life. Love them now as if they were your own. Invest in them now for a awesome return of love in the future. It will come exactly when you need it.
Have a blessed week!
Mrs. Williams, If you get a chance to read this blog, this verse is for you.
Luke 6:40 “The student is not above the teacher, but everyone who is fully trained will be like their teacher.” Thank you again and get well soon.
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http://warwick.nn.k12.va.us/
