Rewarding

Last night we met my husband's parents at an open air mall for dinner. The restaurant was overcrowded and not the ideal choice for a party as large, but it was great to see everyone. After dinner we walked around. Every adult emptied their wallets and pockets in search of pennies for the kids to throw in the centerpiece fountain of the mall. Afterward most adults wanted coffee and all children wanted a sweet treat. The two groups branched off from one another; I went with the latter. While the java junkies were getting their fix, we found our way to the Nestle Toll House Shop. I walked up to the counter with Julia and my nephew, Isaac. The Nestle girl approached and put her hands to her mouth and said, "I think I am going to cry, it's my first and third grade teacher."

I always say that the two words that strike fear in my heart when I am out in public are Mrs. Kado. I am always afraid that I won't remember a name. But there was Rebecca. Could not forget her.

In my first official year with the district, I taught first grade. Rebecca was in that very first class. Needless to say, that class is acutely exceptional in my mind. The next year, I was moved to third grade. The year after I remained in third grade and was fortunate enough to get roughly half of my old first graders. Rebecca was one of those. I married Bobby the summer after that school year. Rebecca and another student had their mothers drive them out to Troy for the ceremony.

She and I spent a few minutes catching up. She just graduated from high school. I asked where she was headed from there. She told me she was starting out at community college. Her desire, she told me, is to teach first grade.