Two years ago the stalking began. Six weeks straight. Every morning I found my pregnant, hormonal
self frantically logging into to our school district’s student site to determine
who would have the honor of teaching my first-born son in first grade. “Unassigned” appeared day after day. Until one early August morning. The day had come. There was a name. One simple word – Albright. As every loving mother does, the
interrogation of more seasoned neighborhood parents began. Who was this mysterious woman –
Albright? How connected was she with
parents? What was her communication
style? Classroom discipline philosophy? The questions came fast and furious. Max’s only question – was she nice?
My overly emotional pregnant brain and heart were quickly put
at ease. Every time I announced Max was
assigned “Albright”, the response was unanimous. “You are so lucky.” Even fellow students proclaimed their
jealousy of Max’s assignment.
August 30th finally rolled around and with
tear-filled eyes I watched Max board the bus.
I spent the day counting down until 3:50 when the bus would deliver the
little boy I will always think of as my baby back to me…and along with it my
heart. When the bus doors flung open and Max bounded
off the bus with a huge smile, I knew we were off to a good start.
Friendships were instantly made. Funny stories were told from each day. Classmates quickly became fiercely loyal of
each other. Collaboration became second
nature. A negative word was never
uttered of another classmate.
As the year went on, Max began openly sharing tidbits of
Mrs. Albright’s life with us – her favorite food, her husband’s devotion to
her, funny stories of her children, pictures from vacation, her love of Dunkin’
Donuts iced tea. At first, I must admit I
found it odd that Max knew so much about his teacher. Within a few months, it suddenly became clear
to me though – as many fun and quirky things that Max knew about Mrs. Albright,
she knew an equal amount about each and every one of her students.
Towards the end of first grade, rumors started swirling that
Mrs. Albright was moving up to second grade.
Could it be true? Would she keep her same kids? I tried to tame my exuberance until the
rumors were confirmed. Then, mid-August
a sense of relief and downright giddiness overtook our house – the rumors were
true.
As the first day of second grade rolled around, Max
practically ran to the bus stop. The excitement
of knowing who was waiting on the other end of his bus ride was almost too much
to handle. The beginning of the school year was filled
with stories of summer adventures and the return of recess basketball games
among close friends. As the holidays
quickly approached, I received an email from Mrs. Albright. It was a short friendly note to let me know
that she overheard Max talking with his friends about the Elf on the Shelf. He shared with his friends that his Elf had
not arrived in our house yet, but he searches for him upon waking up each morning. (Before I get the “Bad Mommy Award”, it was
on the list of things to get. But, I digress.)
Mrs. Albright was letting me know in
case we were interested in looking into an Elf.
She felt it would be something Max would really enjoy. I was dumb-founded. A woman with three young children of her own
and a class of 24 children she loves as her own took the time to email me about
something so seemingly small. A few days
later, she followed up with a few sentences describing Max’s joy over Andy’s
arrival. This is just one example of the
countless times over the past two years Mrs. Albright has shown the little
things do make a difference.
In May, the hugs at the end of the day from Mrs. Albright started
getting a little tighter. End-of-year
party planning began. The time was
coming to say good-bye. Then, an
email. An invitation to view a video of the
past two years Mrs. Albright made for each of her students. Hundreds of pictures lovingly set to
music. Each one painstakingly selected
in the same way a mother selects pictures for a holiday card. As Mrs. Albright addressed the parents during
the viewing party, there was not a dry eye in the class. Pure love and dedication flowed from
her. Picture after picture of classmates
hugging each other, laughing with each, loving each other.
The day finally arrived that I had been dreading since September. Max’s last day of school – his last day as a
student of Mrs. Albright. I could tell
the day was going to be emotional for Max.
He was becoming more withdrawn all week and very jittery the night
before. Lucy, Charlie and I walked Max to the bus his
last day of second grade. With a lump in
my throat, I kissed him good-bye and waved frantically as the bus drove
away. I instantly flashed back two years
to the first time Max boarded that same bus.
Two years of kissing Max good-bye each morning knowing he was running
from my arms into a classroom filled with love, respect and friendship.
As I did his first day of school, I watched the seconds tick
by until the bus was scheduled to drop him home. Only on this day, I wished for time to
standstill. I did not want Max’s time
with his teacher and classmates to come to an end. My heart ached as the clock moved closer and
closer to 3:50. I slowly walked to the
bus stop dreading what was waiting for me.
As the roar of the kids on bus could be heard coming down the street, I knew
the little boy I love so very much was probably not among those cheering as
another school year came to an end. Max
was the first off the bus as doors opened.
Only on this day, his smile was replaced by tears. Tears mourning the end of once-in-a-lifetime
experience.
As I tried comforting Max through his tears, the only words
that I could muster through my own tears were probably of little solace. “You are so lucky. Most people go through life never having
experienced a Mrs. Albright in their life.
You got to experience her love for two years.” As I uttered those words, a part of me
realized I am a little jealous of Max. I
most certainly have had great teachers in my life. But, I have never had a Mrs. Albright.
Somewhere in all of this a few things were taught. Addition and subtraction were mastered. Printed letters turned into cursive writing. Easy reading books became chapter
books. Funny thing is that somewhere along
the way, I stopped caring about most of this and became much more interested in
the interpersonal connections – who Max played with at recess, how Mrs.
Albright’s weekend was and if Max worked together with his friends to solve
problems. I guess Mrs. Albright taught
me something too – education isn’t about the ABC’s and 123’s. It is about learning how to live life
demonstrating respect and compassion for each other. I go to bed each night with a little bit more
hope than I did two years ago because there are 24 young people who have a
pretty good shot at making this world a better place because of Mrs. Albright.
In the meantime, I will once again spend my summer stalking the
district’s website for Max’s third grade assignment – knowing there will only
ever be one Mrs. Albright.
