Bill and Rupert

Walking out of our neighborhood grocery store today, I overheard two elderly gentlemen chatting on a park bench. One was telling the other, "I was part of the first graduating class of Teacher Town Middle School back when it was a junior high." Knowing that it opened in 1940, I couldn't help but slow down, look back and say, "Wow!" I've been known to be shy, and it would have been completely natural for me to have walked on without a word, but I decided to stop and explain myself instead.

"I taught at Teacher Town Middle School before I had this baby." I said, walking up to this happy pair enjoying the sunny day. We introduced ourselves, shook hands, and talked for a while about what our neighborhood was like when both Bill and Rupert were growing up around here. They both had children of their own go through Teacher Town schools, and the pride they had for their school communities back then hasn't died down. They remember great teachers, hard projects, and the math, oh the math, was not the same math they learned in school.

"Have you been back to visit?" I asked. Neither of them had set foot in the school since the 1970's, so I encouraged them to go in for a tour. A lot has changed in the last forty years or so, even more than the math. I know they would be welcomed there. Bill has heard there's a picture of his class hanging in the hall, and I'm pretty sure I walked by that framed portrait every day at work.

"I can tell you're a great teacher," Rupert told me as we prepared to part ways. I couldn't confirm that for him, but I told him that I try. There's no way for them to know, but I appreciated their heartening words. Teacher Town is a cozy place, so I feel certain that I'll see them again. I'm glad to know their names.