Memory, Don't Fail Me Now

I started into the Liquor Store on Saturday evening, to get some scratchers. The parking lot was full when I pulled in, but I found a place up next to the building, and waited. Several of the people I saw go in came back out. I figured the others were playing the fake slot machines, so there wouldn't be much of a line at the counter.

As I neared the door, I saw a gal leaning against the front of the building, smoking. I didn't know if she was waiting on a customer to come out, or if she worked there. I hadn't seen her before. But I know the cashiers at the Gas Station Chicken Store often pop out for a quick smoke when there's a lull in business.

"What's your name?"

I was taken aback. Why would some random gal ask for my name? She was around 30, wearing jeans and an orange sweatshirt over a white t-shirt. She was well-groomed. Her auburn hair pulled back, and a tiny bit of makeup causing her blue blue eyes to pop. She asked again as I was deciding whether to answer. It's the old teacher in me. My attitude of why do you need to know?

"Thevictorian. Val Thevictorian."

"Are you kidding me? I can't believe it! You were my teacher! You were SO GOOD! You really made a difference in my life. Do you remember me?"

"Uh. Well... you look familiar. But I'm not getting a name. I had so many students, you know. Was it in the old building? Or the new building? Was it middle school? Or the high school?"

"Now I can't remember which school district it was."

"It had to be Basementia. Or Newmentia. That's the only school I worked at around this area."

"I don't know. My name is [REDACTED]."

"Sorry... I'm still not getting anything. I feel so bad!"

"You and Mrs. Roast were the two best teachers ever!"

"Oh. Then it was at Basementia."

"What did you teach?"

"Over there, I taught the At-Risk classes at the middle school for half a day. And health at the high school the other half."

"I just remember how much it meant to me to have you for a teacher. You guys didn't know it then, but I was going through a hard time. Then our house burned down, and the school took up a collection to help us out."

[I DID remember that. I donated $100 for that family. But I still didn't remember her name.]

"Yes, I remember. That was so sad."

"It got even worse. Do you remember reading about the family that was abusing their kids? That was us. We all got split up and put in different foster homes... Come on in, Sweetie."

She held the door open for me, and we went in to do my scratcher business. Meanwhile, she continued talking while fetching my tickets.

"It was terrible. We got moved all around. I haven't seen my brothers in over 20 years. I'm 32 years old now. I don't even know where they are. But I'm here. I'm married. I survived. They did stuff to us kids that mother nature wouldn't do to a squirrel. But I'm okay. How about you?"

"I'm doing pretty good. I need a knew knee, but otherwise I can't complain."

"How about Mrs. Roast? Is she still alive?"

"I would imagine so. I haven't talked to her since I retired. She was really great."

"Yes. The two of you got me through. I just wanted you to know that."

"I'm glad I helped. I wish I could have done more. You seem to be doing pretty good now." [I wanted to tell her how amazingly pretty she was. How she had a kind of glow. But that would have been weird.]

"Oh, you'd be surprised, Honey. Looks can be deceiving. I hope you win on your tickets. And that you come back so we can talk again."

"I'm in here every week or so. I hope I see you again, too."

While we had been chatting, each of us pausing a couple times to keep tears from overflowing, a woman had come in to stand in line. She said, "You are the fourth conversation I've heard just TODAY about how foster care had saved somebody."

"Oh, Sweetie, they didn't save me. Far from it. But I'm doing okay."

Anyhoo... on the drive home, I felt so bad for not remembering this student. Even once she told me her name! She had to have been around the time we moved into the new high school building, and swapped the old middle school for the old high school. That's when I got a classroom in the basement, next to Mrs. Roast (her secret nickname because she declared she would "roast my own rumpus before I'll let these kids use calculators for middle school math!"). I had recently been asked to start the At-Risk program, after years of teaching science.

By the time I got home, I had a vague memory. I'm pretty sure she was in a group of 6th graders I had for extra help in Math and English. She was an average kid, not a troublemaker. One who could fall through the cracks without a little extra encouragement.

Anyhoo... if I see Student again, I'm going to ask about a couple people I think were in her class. That should verify my new memory of her.

We do the best we can, you know, to help each child succeed. The stars and troublemakers are the ones who pop up in a teacher's memory first. It's the other ones we affect most. Please realize, a student has a handful of teachers to remember. We have up to 180 kids a day, year after year after year.