For three years I taught elementary school. That was 1957 to 1960. I never considered myself an ace in the classroom. Maybe I was too harsh a judge.
Last week my grandson met one of my students. Now retired, he had received many awards as an elementary school teacher. He said I was his role model. His mother died the summer before he became my seventh-grader. I didn’t give Jim preferential treatment. I remember that he took every opportunity to be by my side. I enjoyed his company.
Eddie was my football coach on the playground. Music appreciation was not his favorite subject. Something changed. Years later Eddie was a dentist in North Dakota. He introduced me to a seminar audience. He said I taught him to enjoy classical music.
Carolyn told her sister that I helped her through the most trying time of her life. In seventh grade her parents divorced. In an attempt to bring them together she made a special card for Mothers’ Day. She didn’t know exactly how, but she was going to give it to mother. She spent weeks in art class designing the card. On the way home the wind sucked it out of the open car window. She was crushed. The next day I helped her design and make another card.
Carolyn never wept at school. School must have been some form of stability for her. As I helped her with the card her sad eyes met mine. They expressed gratitude that she could not put into words without weeping. Every day thereafter those eyes spoke volumes neither she nor I could understand.
Love never quits touching. Jim, Eddie, and Carolyn are proof of that. I can’t explain it, but it keeps on touching just the same.