Thursday, December 03, 2015

I wish I had known . . .

Last week, I saw an obituary in our regional paper of one of my high school teachers. She was a quiet woman, slender, single, and what a high schooler would can older. 

The obit said that she had gone to work right out of high school in medical records for twenty-some years, then, when she moved to our town with a state college, got her BS and MS degrees in history. She must have been about forty years old when she started college.

Four years after she finished her degrees, I had her for history in the eleventh grade and psychology in the twelfth grade but remember nothing outstanding about the classes. I suppose she found her "teaching feet"  sometime in the following years.
 
The obituary, I'm sure written by the family, said, "She loved world history, teaching, learning and traveling.  She was an avid reader, maintaining a binder for decades that listed every book she had read."  How I wish I had known that about her. Probably, though, at my juvenile age of sixteen and seventeen, I would not have appreciated it, but I do now. I had no idea she loved to read. None at all. I don't remember her ever sharing books she'd read or encouraging us to read. Who knows what effect that may have had on me then, and others, had I known those commendatory statements about Miss B. And I would relish those two sentences written about me in my obituary. 

Although she suffered with dementia in her last years, Miss B enjoyed this world for ninety-three years. 

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