Part II: I ended my graduation speech by saying "Shalom" (this from one of the few Jews this community had seen). I explained that the word meant "hello" as I had said to them 2 years before, "good-bye" as I was saying to them now, and "peace" which is what I wished for them throughout their lives.
It was time for everyone to move on and as I look at the picture of the class, I wonder what happened to each of them. Perhaps someday I will find one and catch-up. I was only 23 at the time they were 13 and 14, so they would be 42 or 43 now. Hard to believe, hard to believe.
Funny Memories: On the playground one day (yes, even eighth graders had playground and recess), I was reffing a game of kick ball when I called Joy out (how do I remember than name when I can't remember people that I met yesterday). Joy, who was a tall as me and probably heavier, looked at me and said "I wasn't out you skinny fucker" (yes, I was skinny back then). Everyone was slient, the type of silence you see in the commercials for Dean Whitter (when Dean Whitter talks, everyone listens) or when you are on an airplane and lighting strikesm and there is no noise while the passengers and crew wait to see if there was an adverse impact. Everyone was looking at me for my reaction - would I take her to the principal (not that I ever resorted to that), would I impose some type of punishment, what would I do. So, looking her straight in the eyes, I simply sid to her "Don't ever call me skinny again". I had diffused a situation (I knew that the words had slipped out), I had set an example (retaliation is not always needed), I had gained respect (my power would not be used without consideration), I had solidified my relationship with the class (I could be trusted).
Another day, I noticed a note that was being passed around. I asked what it said. One of the students said, with quite a degree of enjoyment and a smirk to end all smirks, that the note simply said that one of the students, Christine Zalata, had a crush on Mr. Fellman. I simply responded that they should not make up some stories and the Christine did not have a crush on me. At that point, Christine looked me dead in the eyes and simply said "yes I do" in a voice that was as much of an invitation as it was a statement of fact. I suggested that we simply move on, but I know that I did so with a blazing red face.
Tearful Memories: That year, I had the opportunity to teach a book called "A Lantern in Her Hand" that tells the story of a child who moves to Nebraska in the mid 1800's (around 1860, I believe) and her life in the changing Nebraska landscape as the farms that were distant from any town eventually were a part of the town (in this case, Lincoln, I believe), and the changing family groups (as she grew, married, had children, lost children, had grandchildren). As I approached the end of the book, I was talking with my mother about how much I liked it, and she toldme that it had been one of her favorite books; I could see why for she (like I) appreciate history and the story of a person's life. At the end of the book, the little girl, then an old women, dies, and the scene is set and told in such a beautiful way that it brought tears to my eyes, and I remember sharing that experience with my students.
I also remember the day that, with a choked up voice, I explained to my students the significance of the last American (actually, U.S. soldier and government official) leaving Vietnam. These young people, not focused oncurrent events or recent history, didn't fully appreciate the emotion that I felt, but I was glad to tell them the story of the 60's and early 70's in a manner that I hope stayed with them.
Teaching that year was the best of times (and, unlike the period in the Tale of Two Cities, not the worst of times). I will cherish it forever and it is a part of me.
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