This is a True Story

I was in the check-out line at Bed Bath and Beyond. I recognized the cashier as one of my former middle school students. I remembered her name right way (which is rare for me). I remembered her as someone who had incredible talent as a writer.

“Melanie! It’s Mrs. Angel! Do you remember me? I had you for Eighth Grade ELA?”

“Mrs. Angel, yes! Of course, I remember you!”

“How are you? What are you up to these days? You were such an awesome writer. You were always writing all of that fan fiction. Are you doing anything with writing these days? You are so talented.”

And here Melanie starts to get teary.

“Wow. I can’t believe you remember me like that. I’m hoping to go back to school soon. I want to go into screenwriting. But I did sort of lose my way in high school. I had some struggles. But wow. It means a lot to me that you think of me like that. When I was in high school I went back to visit you, but you were gone. Someone else was in your classroom.”

“Yes,” I explain. “I took a job in the Curriculum Department. So I’m still around, just not teaching students in a school anymore.” It surprises me how sad I am to admit this to her.

Melanie sniffles and struggles to take the security tag off my curtains.

“Well, it’s really good to see you,” she says. “I just can’t believe you remember me as a writer.”

“Well, maybe that’s why we ran into each other. Maybe you need to remember that about yourself. Remember who you are and how much talent you have.”

She’s crying pretty openly now. I think I see my husband getting teary, as well. I can’t stop myself from continuing because all of the sudden, I’m remember who I am, too. I’m a teacher. I’m a counselor. I’m someone who used to make a difference in kids’ lives.

“You have a real talent, Melanie. It is still there. I know you’ll find your way back to doing what you love. You were one of the best writers I ever had.”

She’s trying pretty unsuccessfully to bag my curtains as she wipes at her tears. I feel the eyes of other customers on us. They might think moments like these happen all the time to teachers. They don’t.

“Well, it was amazing to see you,” she says as she finally hands me my bag. “I really needed this.”

“I did, too,” I agree, although I’m sure she doesn’t understand why.

When I reach the parking lot, I say to my husband, “Gosh, that’s what I miss so much. I used to be the kind of teacher who had a big impact on kids. I was good at it. I felt so happy when I connected with a student. That is really who I am, but I’m not doing that anymore. Why am I not teaching anymore?”

“You’re teaching all the time,” he said. “It just looks different these days.”

He was right, of course. My role has changed, but my passion to teach has remained. The career choices I’ve made have sometimes moved me out of the classroom and sometimes allowed me to return. But always…as a teacher, a counselor, a coach, or in my current role of instructional support…my joy has always come from helping people see the best in themselves. And that day Melanie reminded me of just how much that means.