The many faces of my school
Today I begin year #23 of teaching. All of them spent in the same school. The last 20 years spent in the same classroom.
As I drove into the school’s parking lot on Monday for a day of meetings and preparation, I found myself thinking about all the people who have come and gone since I began my career back in September of 1999.
Specifically those most close to me.
Thomas W Perry and Jeff, both members of our bridal party, who moved on years ago. Tom is a principal today (poor soul) and Jeff left teaching to take over his father’s business so that his dad could retire.
Still close friends today, but I no longer see them every day like I once did.
Plato Karafelis, my former principal, dear friend and mentor who officiated our wedding. He is now enjoying blissful retirement on the west coast. I miss him every day.
Robert I. Hugh and Andrew Mayo, friends who played the music for our ceremony. Andy is now an administrator in our district (poor soul), and this past summer, I managed to convince a now-retired Rob to start playing golf.
He’s hooked.
Justine Forbes Wolgemuth , another member of our bridal party who moved to Arizona when her husband landed a job out there. Still friends despite the distance.
Donna Hannon Gosk, beloved friend, mentor, co-conspirator, fellow troublemaker, and salty lady who retired years ago. We still find time for the occasional round of golf, and her words of wisdom echo in my mind almost daily.
Amy, who is like a sister to me, whose wedding I officiated, who now lives with her husband and children in Massachusetts.
Elysha Dicks, whose classroom was once separated from mine by a single door that former classroom no longer exists. In its place is a grassy field where students eat their lunch when the weather is good. Elysha now teaches kindergarten at Webster Hill School, less than a mile from where we first met, though it sometimes feels like 100 miles to me.
So many more.
I remember how Jeanne Avicolli, now retired, taught me to look first for December birthdays on my class list.
The youngest kids in your class.
“Too many December birthdays,” she said, “and you’ll have a tough year.”
I remember Lee Gluck walking beside me on our first day as we toured the adjacent forest, telling me amusing little things about each member of the faculty, making me laugh, and putting me at ease.
I remember our office staff – Deanie, JoAnn, and Dana Tracy – taking me aside on my first day, warning me about the many ways to avoid annoying our principal.
Dana is now a Spanish teacher. Deanie and JoAnn are retired. Deanie and her husband still come to Speak Up shows from time to time.
Before the pandemic, Deanie was still volunteering in our school.
So many good people have passed through our school over the many years I have spent teaching.
Some of whom were and still are good friends today. Others who were beloved colleagues.
A couple who I could’ve done without.
I can stand in the doorway of almost any classroom in our school and recite the merry-go-round of teachers who once occupied the space, working hard to change the lives of children.
That doesn’t even begin to count the army of parents over the years, many of whom became and in some cases still remain dear friends today.
In one case, Charlie’s godparents.
Also the students, now adults, many of whom remain in my life and are still my friends today.
So many people have passed through the school during my time there. So many have touched my heart.
But for some reason, I found myself thinking of John Emshoff today, the custodian and friend to so many teachers and children, who passed away in a car accident on his way home from work back in 2015. Maybe it’s because I never had a chance to say goodbye to John that he so often occupies my thoughts.
I wrote a post about him, filled with stories, following his death. It was later reprinted in We-Ha.com, West Hartford’s online newspaper.
Maybe it’s because John is no longer with us that I find it so important to keep him in my mind today as I begin another school year. Important to say his name. Remember his impact on the lives of so many. Keep his spirit alive.
I miss John. More than six years after his death, I still think of him often.
I think I’ll tell my students about him today. Share some of his stories. Ensure that John’s memory remains a part of our school.
A good way to start another year of teaching.
