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Reminiscing.

Yesterday I was given the charitable task of finding a new home for an old overhead projector that still works. My obvious first guess was a school and since I have personal ties to North Marion High, I called there first. The woman who answered sounded more like a child and she put me through to the librarian, Pat Conlon.

Mrs. Conlon's assistant patched me through to her after asking my name. Then Mrs. Conlon picked up the phone and said this:

"Oh my goodness, I can't believe it! Is this really Alison Scott? The Alison Scott of Alison and Susan Scott from Future Educators?"

We proceeded to have a nice discussion about how our lives were going, how Susan was, how the school was, and whatnot. Then she suggested I try some other schools in the area because she already had three spare projectors.

Luckily I found the AI-1000 a home at Anthony Elementary with the librarian there, named Mrs. McRae. McRae being the last name of a middle school friend of mine. I'm taking a guess it's her mom considering there aren't too many McRae's around the area.

I think it's fascinating that even five years after graduation and eight years after leaving the Future Educators club, Mrs. Conlon stills knows me and Susan by name. It's mind boggling really. Mind boggling and flattering, both.

I like to think I left a mark on that school -- a positive mark. And being remembered by a librarian that I lost regular contact with after my ninth grade year really gives me the impression that I did. It kind of makes me want to get back in touch with teachers like George Wayte (drafting and CAD), Russell Murphy (Chemistry and Physics), and Kalebra Jacobs-Williams (French). They were more than my favorite teachers -- those three were my friends. I wonder where they are these days...

It also makes me think of Mr. Butterfield, my gifted teacher from kindergarten through 8th grade. We've written before. And I've talked to him on the phone. My mom invited him to my high school graduation party and never let me know he RSVPed. When I opened the kitchen door to him standing there with a card in his hands, I almost started crying because I hadn't seen him in four years. I hadn't seen him in four years, yet he still cared enough to show up.

When I showed him my senior design project (the new CAD drawing of the entire high school with the new additions, bus routes, and fire escape routes), he was as proud of me as my own parents were. Aside from Mom and Dad, he is the one constant role model I had growing up.

He is the reason I've read all the classics. He's the reason I love chess, can create optical illusions with paper and a straight edge, and love the game Password. He is the reason I'm a die hard C.S. Lewis fan and the reason I knew how to play pool at 12-years-old. He's the reason I wrote a children's book detailing the attack on Pearl Harbor and the reason I respect Bette Davis as a cultural icon.

Most kids don't know the same teacher for nine years. I did. That leaves an impact on a child.

I remember the exact tone of his voice and the scent of the cologne he wears. Most children go through school without putting much thought into what kind of impressions their teachers will leave on them because most children only have any particular teacher for one year.

I miss him. I think I'll write to him tomorrow.

Comments

J.M. said…
Have we ever played each other in chess? If not, we should.
Jessica Nelson said…
I hope you do write him. I love thinking about my past teachers, though I'm pretty sure they don't remember me.
That's awesome she remembered you. :-)
J.M. said…
You're pretty much the most badass badass I know, if that makes a lick of sense.

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