I ALMOST STAYED OUT THE HALLWAY: “Stay out the hallway” was written in black on 2” white athletic tape, advice on a gym door for students where me & Miss Julie voted last Tuesday. That advice in some form, has been passed along since Adam & Eve heard it regarding a tree in Genesis 3. It’s advice I tried to give myself a year ago in this little opus that refuses to be filed away. Originally posted in December 2022 & reposted with an intro stated by
“FOR MY TEACHER FRIENDS…” one year ago today, on Friday August 4, 2023. That intro is embarrassing because of my hypocrisy. The morning it met the internet, I was trying every means possible to avoid a position in a school, to stay out the hallway, where I, deep down, knew I should be with words about one that cared to be in the hallway. What I didn’t avoid that weekend were quiet nudges from God & a little more noisy engagement of Miss Julie’s “pirate ship captain” mode & her words, “I think they could use you”. On Monday, with school starting on Thursday, I signed a contract & got way more from them than they got from me by getting in the hallway & letting my soul get branded with smiles, appreciation for my efforts, co-workers that relate to Liverpool soccer & some that relate to parents with cognitive difficulties, parents that offered encouragement, rainy day football throwing, & my first promposal when the Don of the Toddler Mafia & her Capo stood at my door with a glow stick necklace & headband & an invitation to their class Glow Party Dance. This Thursday, it’s round 2 in the hallway for me & to the educators I know & to the 17 I’ll sit with at in service tomorrow, may God bless our efforts in the hallways.

FOR MY TEACHER & PRINCIPAL FRIENDS & THOSE OF MISS JULIE, THAT WILL STILL HAVE AN IMPACT IN 50 YEARS: Wednesday night, I spent time with students from my church at poolside. With school starting, I asked some if there were any teachers they hoped to avoid. To a person, each had at least one & my thought was, “I hope you get him/her, before 6th grade, I hoped for Mrs. Cannon, got Mrs. Farrow, & have grown more pleasingly disappointed”. The reason follows in this piece I wrote in December ’22 as the doors closed for the last time on an aging school. There were at least 5 individuals that I could’ve chosen, the words came together first for the lady I met in September 1973. I’ve attached photos of my window seat view in 6th grade & the staircase in the story that I made on my last visit in March of 2022. As noted, Mrs. Farrow was the most demanding teacher I ever sat under, she only wanted all you had. So much so that I got a 99 on a test because I misspelled one word, a 74 followed by a “?” on another because I didn’t do all I was capable of & a “keep working!” on an 89 because I did. I couldn’t stand the constant drilling of fundamental concepts but it paid off in 11th grade when I ran into the 2nd toughest (& it was a close 2nd) math teacher & Key Club sponsor, William Kennedy , & when I was looking over blueprints to make the family some bank. For my educator friends, your job gets harder every year with support in what seems to an outsider, enthusiastic nothingness from elected officials that lead quite well from behind. Keep on, hopefully it will be less than 50 years, but I’m sure a student will be glad you did & say thanks.

THE FINAL CHRISTMAS BREAK, A SONATA OF FOOTBALL, MATH, & SOCIAL STUDIES IN THE KEY OF HUMANITY: As students & faculty count the days until the start of Christmas break, this one’s different. This week when the doors are locked for Christmas break, they will be locked forever. A new school building is finished & so is the old one but not without a story today or a goodbye letter later this week. At this time of year, I can’t help but think of paper football & my 6th grade teacher at Elbert Long School, Mrs. Rebekah Farrow. Under her slight frame & dark ebony skin lived a tough cookie that stressed the fundamentals like a good football coach. She was the Nick Saban & his “process” of arithmetic. The “2 through 12 times tables” a special favorite of hers. She understood that one does use math in adulthood. A fact we found out as she followed us into the junior high section of the school & instructed our 7th & 8th grade math classes. Spending a majority of my grown up time in the building industry, I had an advantage in understanding the geometry of an arched or right angled window, the algebra of a staircase or most importantly, the juggling act of credits, debits, month, & money disguised as a family checkbook. Three times, however, Mrs. Farrow showed a softer side. Opening Day of MLB 1974, the day Hank Aaron was going for number 714, she made some boys happy by strolling over to a big black & white TV, turning it on & granting our repeated, begging requests to watch The Hammer try to tie The Babe. Being a good educator & seizing the moment, the next day’s Social Studies lesson included Jackie Robinson, Rosa Parks, MLK, & Freedom Riders. Second, an October 1976 Friday morning. The preceding day, our football team made a second half comeback to defeat Notre Dame. One day I was privileged to both steal an Irish pass & fire off a pass that ended in six points on our way to a 22-7 victory. As I made my way toward the stairway that led up to Mrs. Welch’s homeroom, I could see her outside of her classroom, silhouetted by a big picture window at the stairway landing. It was obvious she had her crosshairs fixed on me & she slid out to block my way. I was met with a big hug & then her ebony hands clutched my white cheeks & she told me how proud she was of “me & the boys”. A black teacher & a white student, locked in a hug, two keys on life’s piano enjoying the chords of a gridiron triumph. I like to think it was the endgame of Rosa’s opening gambit of “Nah”, when asked to vacate her Montgomery bus seat or what Martin was dreaming about on the Mall in ’63. Lastly, the day of Christmas break, all day in 6th grade & for the hour class period in 7th & 8th grade, we boys sat with desks against each other playing paper football. Flicking with our fingers a folded paper triangle so it would dangle just so over a desk edge for a touchdown. Mrs. Farrow was the hardest, most demanding, most able to reach into the soul & pull the best out of it teacher I ever had, except for a few moments of tenderness that included the day of Christmas break….that day it was desks pushed together & the fear of losing an eye on every field goal attempt 🏈