Every year on the first day of school, I was so excited to meet my teachers. In Elementary school specifically, you had these teachers every day for the entire school year. Rather you loved them or hated them, you were stuck with them. So, even if I had a teacher I didn’t like, I’d promise myself I would always respect them. Then, one year, I lost a teacher. I was in 3rd grade when it was announced that our readiness teacher, Mrs. O’Leary, had passed away at the age of 45. My parents said I was too young to attend her funeral services, so I made a silent vow to myself, that once I was old enough, I would try my best to make every single teacher’s funeral. So far, thankfully, I haven’t had to keep that promise—-until today.
A few days ago, I noticed in the paper that a very familiar name was written there. Mr. Potvin was the best Physical Education teacher ever. I had him while he was at Gossler Park, and remembered how shocked he was when he found out “the lady dropping me off” was my mother—who he went to school with. He always thought it was cool that he went to school with my mom, and now had her daughter in his classes. Mr. Potvin was the same age as my mother, who is currently battling Breast Cancer. His wake/memorial reception (I still call it a wake, even though his body isn’t there) was held at the same Funeral parlor my mom’s will be, when the time comes. So, when I arrived, and walked in, standing in line (which was HUGE and I got there a little after it started, around 4:10!). I took in the surroundings, signed the guest book and took a memorial card. I would have taken one for my mother, but with the large crowd and still 3 hours to go, I thought better of it. Memories flashed through my eyes as I stood there, seeing just how many people, at this early in the calling hours, were already pouring in. My mind wondered how many of my Elementary School Teachers would go as well (and my favorite one did—we always end up finding each other!) And then I finally entered the room where his family was. As I entered, there was a table with rocks and markers, with a sign saying “please leave a message for our dad’s rock garden.” Which I gladly did. No doubt, I’ll be in standing in this same room in a few years. The emotions were there—-but I blocked them out, because this night wasn’t about my future sadness, or anything about me. This night was about honoring the legacy of a teacher. Paying my final respects to someone I saw every day in elementary school. Someone who made sports fun. Someone who always took me aside when I was feeling down about being picked last for all activities, or being picked on, and always told me, remember, it’s the first who will be last, and the last who are always first.
This was the first time I’ve had to say goodbye to a teacher I had, since that early experience with Mrs. O’Leary. I got to his wife, and shared that I was a student of his at Gossler, which she smiled with a look of surprise on her face, and said, “you remembered him?” I smiled, and said of course I did! We talked for a few minutes, and then I met his daughters and one of his granddaughters, who also thought it was so nice of me to come.
I appreciate the kindness I received from them—but again, I say, it’s not about me. I’m not doing anything out of the ordinary. I am simply honoring and respecting an individual who was a part of my journey. Rather it’s a teacher I couldn’t stand, like Mrs. Newell, Mrs. Romanello, or a slew of others—-I’ll be at their funerals too, if I’m able. Why? Because they shaped me, in some way. Even the negative teachers. Vowing to myself to not be like them, or to prove them wrong—that helped me grow. Not every teacher is going to become a friend….but the ones that do, deserve to be remembered. Right along with the not so friendly, not so kind, and downright mean ones. Because the mean, and the good, are a part of who you are today.
So, next time you’re flocking through the obituaries, and you see a teacher’s name, or someone who grew up on your street, or someone you despised. Go to their services. Wish them well. Be the better person.
The student is NOT above the teacher, nor a servant above his master- Matthew 10:24 Well done, good and faithful servant. Rest in peace, Mr. P.
Amanda's Musings 