Autumn leaves turn
Inspired by an influencial elementary teacher
10/20/11
Autumn lets us reflect. Photo by Janelle Sheppard
I lost a dear friend on the day the last issue of The Phoenix was released; she had a form of cancer that was diagnosed earlier this year. She was only 55. She was a teacher who never got to retire. She was a teacher who helped to form young people and open them up to the world.
My friend taught my siblings and I in grade school, so my family got to know her well—especially with us kids being French Immersion students in the early days of immersion in School District 63, when parents would practically be breathing down the teachers’ necks to make sure the program was panning out properly. When I was nineteen, I was at the point of moving away from home—well, actually, my parents were moving away and I wanted to stay behind to go to university (and, admittedly, I had a girlfriend at the time who was also a reason not to move). With my family having become friends with my grade school teacher, we found out that she lived in a house not too far from the university and had a room she wanted to rent… which became my home for the first four years of “striking out on my own!”
You know what it’s like to move away for the first time. In my case, I didn’t exactly move out on my own—there was another responsible adult around! But she provided me with all kinds of space and affirmation, and I was able to begin to grow into my own person, away from my parents.
I remember a number of things she said in our conversations, but one of the pieces that was most formative for me where I was in my life was to learn to “choose my battles”. It’s something I’ve thought about a lot since—some things are worth just letting go. Other things are worth fighting for!
She didn’t have children. But also, as an elementary school teacher, she had more children than practically anyone else! Now, as a parent, I am learning about what it is to share a dear young person with the world. As I let them go off to learn and play with other children, I hope that they will be independent, not “clingy”, and yet I find it’s me who’s wanting to hang on tightly when it’s time for them to go to class! My dear teacher friend would let all of her kids go—each day, at the end of classes, and each year, at the end of June. I can imagine that, while there was a sigh of relief, there was also some tugging on heartstrings. But I also suspect that she knew that these little people were going to be connecting with others, and would lead influential lives themselves. She was giving the world a gift by “setting them free”!
Now, in her death, I’m looking to re-connect with some of those elementary school chums—even just to share the news of our dear teacher friend’s death. But I’m also hearing their stories, and I’m hearing about their children, wherever they’ve rooted themselves in their lives. It was a gift to get some extra time with my teacher in those years I rented a room in her house—even to have a chance to relate on a different level, like going out for a beer (which one doesn’t do in elementary school)! I’ll miss her, and I grieve the lost opportunity to know her in retirement. I am thankful for her life lived, and inspired to live mine fully.
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