You Saved my Life

A few days ago I was walking into Hannaford when I ran into a former student.  “I know who’s under that mask,” he said.  

 

I got a bit closer.  “Tom?

 

We walked in  together, to the carts.  “You saved my life,” he said as he grabbed a cart and walk past me.

 

“Whoa,” I said.  “What?”

 

“You’re one of the ones who saved my life.”

 

Then he changed the subject, told me he was retired, didn’t like it, and wanted to find something else to do.

 

Just like that.

 

With that he walked into the store, and left me in swoosh of wonder.

 

“Huh?”  

 

Go back more than 40 years.  NCCS.  Tom was a student, likeable.   Helped me with the drama club even after he left 7^th or 8^th grade.

 

Once I brought him to and Expo’s game in Montreal.  We were with my dad and one of his friends.  Mr. Breyette, maybe.  He was always liked him.

 

In those days a teacher could do that sort of thing.  Bring kids to Montreal with their dads.

 

We did the game and we ate out.  Or we ate out and did the game.  I don’t remember the sequence.  I do remember the waitress, though.  Buxom, probably attractive.  Dad and Mr. Breyette were making silly comments.  Tom, too, maybe.  I don’t remember.  

 

What I do remember is that we had a fun time—the ride up, the game, the meal.  

 

What did Tom take away from that?  What does he remember to thi day?  What else did his friendship with a youngish teacher do for him?

 

How did I save his life?

 

I decided not to ask.  Asking would take away its power.

 

How did I save his life? 

 

The power of being a teacher.  One never knows what gives a student beyond what’s in the curriculum.

 

What would make Tom say that 45 years later?

 

You never know…