Skip to main content

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.

Popular posts from this blog

Someone busier than you is running right now.

I have a confession to make to my spark buddy, Melissa: I did not go for a run last night. I'm terrible, I know. Here's what else I know: 1. I have never made such great progress in getting into shape as I did when I was jogging regularly. 2. My knee starts to stay in a constant state of noticeable discomfort after I've jogged for over a week. 3. I miss the liberating feeling of running. 4. I miss the empowerment of cross-training (biking, swimming, running) So I've been perusing the intarwebz for motivational media this morning. And while I hate Nike for their shoddy work ethic, jacked up prices, and apparently tiny clothes, I love them for their motivational material. I just have yet to find any media more inspiring to me than the following advertisements. And ... "I am addicted. I've collected footsteps before dawn. Seen places I never knew existed. Run to the moon and back. Been a rabbit for the neighborhood dogs. Obeyed the voice in my head. Let music carr...

I am Doris.

Thank you Laura for the link. This was interesting. I could relate to more than one of the posed situations. Your result for Are You a Jackie or a Marilyn? Or Someone Else? Mad Men-era Female Icon Quiz... You Are a Doris! You are a Doris -- "I must help others." Dorises are warm, concerned, nurturing, and sensitive to other people's needs. How to Get Along with Me * Tell me that you appreciate me. Be specific. * Share fun times with me. * Take an interest in my problems, though I will probably try to focus on yours. * Let me know that I am important and special to you. * Be gentle if you decide to criticize me. In Intimate Relationships * Reassure me that I am interesting to you. * Reassure me often that you love me. * Tell me I'm attractive and that you're glad to be seen with me. What I Like About Being a Doris * being able to relate easily to people and to make friends * knowing what people need and being able to make their lives...

Go Relax! (And I have a question for my readers.)

Okay ... maybe I've been under a bit of stress lately. I'll admit, I have a tendency to carry a packed schedule. And for the most part, I can do this quite well. But there are times -- and I think they come in waves -- that I need to gtfo and decompress. This is why you suddenly find out I went to the beach, or was MIA for an entire weekend. It happens. It's been happening for my entire adult life. Those who know me, either embrace it, or get over the fact that I'm not changing. But I have to confess, even for me, the schedule lately has been an overwhelming one. At the end of May I was looking at my calendar and realized from that day through the middle of July, there isn't a single vacant weekend. I wish I were kidding. As much as I love being busy and having parties, volunteering, getting together with friends for coffee, and all of that fun stuff, if I don't get to take a long, retardedly hot shower every few nights and turn my phone off from time to time, ...