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USS Thoughtful
I met Jimmy in my second year of teaching. He missed the first day of school. When he arrived on the second day, he said it was because he didn’t know that school started yesterday. That should have been a sign.
Teaching was my second career. At this point in life, I’d already spent 20 years as mother. I’d gone back to college when my children were in school all day because I knew that I’d be seeking full-time paid employment again some time, and I wanted to be qualified for a job that was salaried, not hourly. I chose teaching because I thought that it would fit into a mother’s schedule better. Obviously, I had no idea what being a full-time teacher involved!
Jimmy was a boy who knew he was trouble, but he didn’t really want to be trouble. One day, he came and asked me if he really had to go outside for recess that day. Since their recess was my lunch break, I asked him why he didn’t want to go.
“I just know I’ll get into trouble if I’m out there today. And I don’t feel like being in trouble.”
So, I ate my lunch in my room, and Jimmy sat on a floor pillow and played with a pattern block set I had. We talked a little. He was living with Dad in this county in Maryland with his little brother. Jimmy was in fourth grade, brother was in second grade. Dad was a Master Chief in the Navy, stationed at the base in the county across the river from our school. I lived on the base side, and taught in the county across the bridge, where Jimmy’s family lived. The Chesapeake Bay formed the southern border to both counties.
Jimmy’s mother lived in Virginia, with her new husband, and her new children at another Navy base. She’d moved on, and the boys lived with their father, with occasional visits to see mom in her new life. I found out after we’d returned from a holiday break that she’d brought the boys back to father days earlier than had been planned because she just didn’t want them with her that long.
Jimmy and I had a fraught relationship. He was a mediocre student. He was wise beyond his years. He was stubborn, and mischievous, and thoughtful, and willful. Once he was acting out badly, and I said that I would have to call his father. That had no effect, because way back then, I didn’t even have a phone in my room—a call home would mean after school, from the office.
He shrugged and kept on being disruptive. I walked over to my desk, pulled out my cell phone from my purse and looked up his dad’s work number. Cell phone?! No one had a cell phone back then. But, since my husband had been in Bosnia the previous year working with the Marines, and I was driving our daughter out West to college, I’d bought myself a cell phone so we could keep in contact during those occasional times when he could access a phone. Mind you, all this phone did was make calls.
I dialed his father’s number, left a message on his voice mail at work, then put the phone in my pocket. A few minutes later, my pocket rang. The entire class held their breath. I answered, listened for a bit, then handed the phone to Jimmy.
“Yes, sir. No, sir. Okay, sir. Yes, sir.” He handed the phone back to me. Dad said, “You shouldn’t have any more trouble today, Ma’am. Thanks for calling me.”
I did not have any more trouble that day. At least not with Jimmy, anyway.
After Spring Break, we returned for the final sprint to the end of the year. Jimmy came to me at the beginning of class and handed me a very nice booklet. It was the souvenir program from a boat commissioning. He said he’d spent some of our week off with his mother in Virginia, and that they’d gone to a cool ceremony where a new submarine was being launched. He knew I’d like it because he knew that my husband had been in the Navy, and he also knew where I’d grown up. He pointed out the name of the brand new Navy boat: “USS Wyoming.”
And that is the story of my most unexpected, and very cherished, and appreciated gift.
Published in Group Writing
Sad but nice story. Thanks, Cow Girl.
Great story. My wife is a teacher, also. When she was pregnant with our first child, she had horrible morning sickness. Apples were about the only thing she could keep down. At Christmas the boy in her class who was the most trouble came in on the last day before break. He put a large brown paper grocery bag on her desk. It was stapled shut, and had stick on bow. When my wife opened it, she saw it was full of home grown apples. To this day, more than 30 years later, she insists those were the best apples she has ever had.
I bet Jimmy remembers you as a gift too.
Teachers like you make a big difference in many lives. TY or your kindness and compassion. Something I wish I had expressed directly to several adults who were miracles in my childhood.
I don’t know how teachers do it these days. Back in my grade school days the teacher or the principal were still allowed to engage in – how should we say it? – meaningful discipline. Kids used to get what they lacked at home, whether that was structure or love and understanding. Now it’s all rah-rah esteem training and a participation diploma.
@cowgirl Do you know what happened to Jimmy?
No, I don’t know. He’d be 30 years old now, and I cannot remember his last name. I hope he turned out all right. I don’t know know if they moved to another duty station or anything like that. I always tried/try really hard to be fair to my students. I remember being that age, and how vivid those memories are! Every day of your life in childhood is the ONLY day of your life. So, how adults treat you is really significant. I tried to be one of the adults that people didn’t have to remember with a frown. I wasn’t a pushover, but I was fair.
I wonder if there was some other child out on the playground that day that was ready to help Jimmy get into trouble.
I was one of those dads. During my time to be a single father I was stationed in Enid, Oklahoma and the teacher was was his Kindergarten teacher. Wonderful person. She had noticed a pattern where he would be on for a week, then off for a week, then on again. I explained that his mom and I had divorced that year and I wad to drive him to Oklahoma City every other weekend. We worked out a signal that lasted us the remaining time at that school – when he was picked up she would give either me or the sitter a thumbs up or down and then I would handle it.
It got better, his mom moved away and then visitation dropped to 2-3 times a year.
A wonderful story of the gift of gratitude and thoughtfulness.
This conversation is part of our Group Writing Series under the March 2019 Group Writing Theme: Unexpected Gifts. There are still a couple days without stories attached, opportunities open to be taken. Step right up! Tell us about anything from a hidden talent to a white elephant. Share a great surprise or memorable failure (oh, you shouldn’t have!). Our schedule and sign-up sheet awaits.
April’s theme is “Men and Women.”
I was a lot like Jimmy, not due to my family background, but my disruptive behavior.
Thank you being there for the Jimmy’s and Gary’s.