We never seem to think about the impact people have on our
lives until we’re impacted by their death. Two days ago, a woman who is present
in most of my elementary, junior high, and high school memories passed away
unexpectedly, and I was stunned and suddenly aware of how much of a constant
she had been for most of my life. So this one is for Mrs. Rogers.
I’m not going to pretend that I was Mrs. Rogers’ best
student because I wasn’t. And I’m not going to pretend that I didn’t give her
grief because I did. I spent many awkward moments at the other end of her sharp
glance, and many more moments struggling between alto and soprano in choir
class (I still haven’t figured it out). But I can say with confidence that Mrs.
Rogers sparked something in me; I don’t feel like I was gifted with musical
talent as others have been, but she managed to make me a trombone player, of
all things, and a reasonably good one at that.
She also managed to stick with me, and after the
ill-fitting, post-graduation tension students feel around their teachers (most
often their strictest and best teachers), I began to look forward to happening
upon her in the Winifred Grocery or alongside the road for a chat. She was
happy to see me, happy to hear about my life, and never reproached me for the
time she sent me to the office for talking back too much, or all the times she
had to stop the entire band practice to tell Casey and I to shut up (if any of
my students are reading this, please don’t judge me too harshly).
I don’t know what the Winifred High School halls will sound
like without the constant metronome tap of her rings on the piano top or “Holy
Toledo!” echoing in the students’ ears. She has been a building block of our school
and our community, and she deserves the highest respect for the years of
passion and time she put into WHS.
