I Meet Ms. Wagner -- Again

When I thought of the calm June Days at the end of my senior year at Torrance High School, I remembered Ms. Wagner so well.  Earlier this year, preparing a "My Turn" piece for the local paper, I looked back on what it meant to be a good teacher, to deal with the loneliness of trying to figure everything out on your own.

When I was younger, I had the impression that the adults around me had all the answers. I have since learned the baseless folly of following such empty rhetoric. Most people do not have all the answers, but if you know who you are, and more importantly whose you are, you cannot be lost even when you are still looking for the way that you want to go.

I never though that I would meet Ms. Wagner again after over a decade when I was a student at Torrance High School. No way, I thought. She was a good substitute, but I thought that she was old when I was in school. Now that I am older, I was convinced that she would be too old to be alive.

When I had interviewed her for a report on people's different views of heroes, I though that she had told me that she was 71 years old. I was wrong, and so a few weeks ago I had the chance to see her again.

I was pleasantly wrong, and surprised in a way that has grown to characterize a life of faith, one in which I find more things coming to pass in my life than I had ever imagined would occur. I was at one of my favorite local libraries -- yes, I have many favorite libraries in this South Bay area. That Friday morning, I immediately recognized who was standing at the library counter, waiting to check out a book for the week. There she was, a little bit older, but still strong, calmly referencing something.

I was really amazed and excited. Here I was, meeting the very person whom I had mused about in a column for my paper. While she was still taking care of business at the counter, I waited by a desk in the main part of the library, biding my time before I went up to speak to her.

As she walked out quietly, I kind of sidled up to her. I didn't want to scare her, but I did not want her to get away too quickly, either.

When I finally caught her attention, I called to her, "You're Ms. Wagner, right?" She right away told me, "You look familiar." At that point, I handed to her the article from the local paper that I had written, that was published on March 25.

I did not know what to say at the time, even though I have a savvy hand when it comes to writing out my thoughts. She was really surprised, admitting that she does not take the paper anymore, getting all of her news on the radio by the time she leaves the house for the morning.

"I sure would like to have a copy of this article," she told me. Almost, I gave her the original which I had cut from that edition of the newspaper, but she told me that she had time to wait while I copied another from the computer.

For the first time in years, I was upbeat about getting something done for someone else, in enough of a rush to ensure that I got the right copy of the article printed out, and neatly, too, so that I could present it to her in a timely fashion.

The whole time, she was sitting on the library bench outside of the library on that mild May morning, she was leafing through the collection of articles which I had prepared, which I have had the privilege of having printed in local and national, and even international papers.

"So, you want to be writer, I imagine?" She asked me. Enthusiastically, I responded yes. Then I sidelined to a more grim yet grateful topic -- I did not want to be a teacher anymore.

She confided with me that she had stopped subbing a few years ago, and for some of the same reasons that I had mentioned to her. She had faced off against very rude and abrupt studensts, kids who were staying on in the local high school because they played on the football team, not for their grades. She refused to admit one student who had not brought a readmit. When he entered into a  brusque confrontation with her, she stood her ground, and he left not coming back. Later, Ms. Wagner called administration to explain what happened. They were not pleased that she had not received the student, that he was walking around campus somewhere doing something illicit or unacceptable.

She recounted other administrative stand-offs which she and other loved ones had faced in public education. She commented about the poor leadership which is crippling our schools, and the unruly nature of today's students, many of whom do not think that they have to listen to anyone.

I shared with her my own depressing circumstances, including calling security three times in one class period because the students had grown so unruly. I also shared with her the triumph of calling a parent who cursed a blue streak when I had told her that her son had disdainfully said to me, "He thinks he's the real teacher!" That parent was very supportive, but I cannot say that the majority of parents were like her.

As I continued talking with her in that brief reconnect, I asked if she remembered that one afternoon over a decade ago when we were talking about the future and teaching. She did not. I believe that is all for the best. We can bless those best when we have no idea that we have been a blessing.

I recall a quote from one of my favorite thinkers, a Danish pastor named Soren Kierkegaard:

"To be admired is nice. To be a star who guides suffering souls, that is sublime." Stars just are. They are so busy shining, they do not have time to preen and admire themselves, and they do not have to judge or wonder whether their shine is helping someone or not.

What people have done for us, the good memories that we cherish about other people, we may not recall, we may have forgotten, but we can rest assured that the positive impact which we have had on people will endure, long after we have forgotten the moment.