How could teaching business in a small town in Colorado possibly have life-or-death consequences to my pupils? That was not really a question I pondered as a first-year typing teacher.
I was a stay-at-home mom with a 4-month-old baby boy. Our precious daughter, Lisa, was 3 going on 6. As school was about to start, the administration found itself in the disturbing circumstances of being without a business teacher.
We were fairly new to the community, but word spread that I was a certified business teacher.
The call came a few days later, “It will only be for half days, Mrs, Cooney. You would be doing us a big favor if you would consider filling this position.”
After my husband and I thoroughly discussed the adjustments required for all of us, I agreed to do my civic duty. I would be putting my hard-earned education to practical use, so I accepted the challenge.
Rising at 5:30 a.m. to begin my daily routine of getting everyone ready for everything was new to all of us. Whether cleaning, dressing, cooking, feeding or driving the 11 miles to the babysitter and school, it all took time. My precious son cried so hard as I left him in someone else’s care. My heart nearly broke each time I had to drop the children off.
The class of about 20 students consisted of more girls than guys. There were six brave “men,” however, who decided to give it a shot.
One boy in particular struggled each and every day. He just couldn’t get the hang of it. His attitude was good and he kept plugging away in spite of his lack of success. His fingers were rather chubby, not long and slender like many of the girls’. He did learn the keyboard, however, and was able to perform elementary tasks. He passed the course, but just barely. Perhaps it was more of a “gift” than anything else.
The war in Vietnam was going strong and that young man was drafted into the Army. Sometime later, after he completed his two-year commitment, I received a letter in which he thanked me for teaching him the keyboard.
As it turned out, he was the only one in his division who knew how to type, and his job became the coveted company clerk. That position kept him off the front lines, where many of his buddies were critically wounded or died while serving their country.
He expressed grateful appreciation to me, although I was simply doing my job.
The fact that he took the time to write the letter to thank me and explain the situation was the most rewarding thing he could have done. I’ve never forgotten the kindness and it has been nearly 50 years ago now.
God has amazing plans for all of us, even though we may not fully realize it at the time. What a humbling experience to realize that something you did, in the course of teaching a class, could have such a profound effect on someone’s life.
This column may include both fiction and nonfiction, and views expressed do not necessarily represent those of The SUN. Submissions can be sent to editor@pagosasun.com.
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