Evie here. My friend
Janice has conned me into taking over her blog. When I protested she
refused to listen. “You owe me”, she said.
“What would I
write about?”
“About what you
know.”
“And what do I
know?”
“Don’t be daft?
You taught in high school for how many years? And you were the wife
of professor for
longer that that.”
*
* * *
*
So I Evie will try.
There is no plot—just isolated stories as they occur to me.
STORY 1
Carol Johnson came
to teaching late. During her stay at home mom stent she earned her
teaching accreditation from the University where her husband taught.
Her first job began the week after her forty-sixth birthday. The
expected problems of a first time teacher were easily mastered ,
likely from experience gained by surviving the adolescence of her own
three children.
The faculty with one
exception was warm and welcoming. Not that one was unaccepting-- he
was stand offish. Dale Morris, a shy twenty three year old history
teacher insisted on calling Carol “Mrs Johnson. The only one to do
so. A month into the school year she called to him as he passed her
classroom on his way to his own. “Dale, can I ask you a big favor?”
“”Mrs Johnson.
Yeah. What can I do for you?”
“Call me Carol.”
“I couldn’t do
that.”
“But you can’t
imagine how old you make me feel. You’re the only one who calls me
that and it makes me feel so old and not apart of the group. So
please.”
“Mrs. Johnson I
was raised to respect older people. I just can’t do that.”
“Sorry to hear
that Mr. Morris. Until the day Dale was transferred to another school
Carol was the only faculty who called Dale Mr. Morris.
