I'm a Jean Jones and the Number 8

Warning: Kind of a sentimental post!

Just recently I was blessed enough to be able to find my favorite teacher on Facebook. Just wanted to share some background info into the kind of impact that she made on my life.

Part 2

So a couple of days ago, while lolligagging around and getting dressed for work I downloaded "Imma Be" by The Black Eyed Peas on ITunes (don't judge me) and giggled a little thinking about my beloved teacher "Imogene." It's funny how the brain works isn't it? One minute, you're dancing around in your underwear and the next you're sitting in the first seat, second row of your third grade classroom. I remembered that she was 41 when I was 8 years old and calculated that she should be around 59 now. The man-friend asked me why I was smiling (because I guess I should have a serious face on when I'm dancing around in my undies?) and I mentioned Ms. Jones - a name he's heard plenty of times before. I asked him to google her, which he did (spelling the name wrong, of course) and her facebook page came up immediately. Excited, I practically knocked him over trying to get to the computer and sent her a message asking if she remembered me, what she's been up to and practically begging her to be my friend.

By the end of the day, she accepted my friendship and sent me a long letter catching up and asking about what I'm up to. Here is some of what she said . . .

Hi Arnetta!

Of course I remember you!!! You were so little, so imaginative, so intelligent, and a READER! You would challenge me with your questions.Where are you? What are you doing? I just imagined that I would see that you were some sort of artist, or a writer, or an attorney. I dunno, but I know you are doing SOMETHING interesting with your life.

You have changed. You are such a beautiful young lady and all grown up! Where did the time go? I can still see you (in my mind's eye) in my third grade classroom though. Where are your glasses? I love your hair!

The letter brought back so many memories. She told me that she was disabled and had way too many doctor's appointments to try to continue teaching. Knowing the kind of teacher she'd been, I felt it was a tragedy that she wasn't in a classroom somewhere doing what she loved to do. I sent her a letter asking what her ailments were. She sent me back a seven page letter that broke my heart.

Lupus, extreme allergies, IBS, PolyArthritis, Sciatica, Fibromyalgia, Dry Eye Syndrome, partially lost vision, Rheumatoid Arthritis (which she takes chemotherapy treatment in order to prevent from getting worse), tennis elbow and a host of broken bones and weakened joints. She told me about the pain that she's suffered and the loved ones she'd cared for and then lost to the same disabilities. She told me that a little boy and his father on the way to a grocery store (out in the country) stopped by her house at 8am in the morning and the little boy begged her to come back to teaching. "We'll be good," the little boy pleaded. (I think that was when I got up and ran to the bathroom to sob like a baby get some air and try to get through the rest of her letter). She told me about the students that she'd taught coming to her house and visiting her, including a girl who asked Ms. Jones to be the godmother of her child. She told me about her 40th high school reunion, her niece and nephew, her dog Marleigh, her college years, her brother who committed suicide, her hobbies, memories and hopes for the future.

That letter was an emotional rollercoaster for me. It made me wonder why good people have to go through so much. It also gave me a glimpse into the kind of strength and resiliency she has (and that I'd like to have). I remembered the tall, statuesque woman with the big hair and the big smile who looked invincible to me back then. It made me sad to know that if I saw her today, she would not look the same. She would not be in the same pristine condition. With all this, however, the letter was not sad. It was just real. And that was Ms. Jones. Real.

Finding Ms. Jones motivated me to reach out to other teachers that have touched my life. (I found one on facebook 2 days ago but another teacher - who helped me to pay for college - I could not find.) I guess it just really made me realize how rare it is to have a good teacher, especially in a poor school district. I am the first person to complain about bad teachers and I have had my share. Teachers who couldn't care less about their students. Teachers who absolutely hated coming to school every day. Teachers who teased their students, ostracized their students, molested or physically harmed their students, cursed at their students and punished them for no reason whatsoever. Teachers who sabotoged grades or just passed students right along through the school system. But having one teacher that cares really does make all the difference. And it wipes away all of the pain and frustration from the other teachers. (I know I sound like a "The More You Know" promo, but it's sooo true.)

Ms. Jones and I have been corresponding back and forth over the past couple days. We found out that we had a lot in common from joining the same sorority to having the same experiences. I gave her a break yesterday because we both have a tendency to write long letters and I didn't want to wear her poor fingers out. But there's no doubt in my mind that I will be seeing her soon. I plan to make a trip out there in a month or so (if she's comfortable with having company in her condition). With her bold personality, I don't think she'd mind.