The Safety Patroller

I got a shout-out at a funeral yesterday. 

In sixth grade I was a safety patroller. It meant that I got out of my last class a few minutes early so I could timely arrive at my designated spot to help other elementary school students navigate their way home. Only, on many occasions, I took a little detour first.

In fifth grade I met the first love of my life. She was older than I was. Ok, older does not fully capture our age difference. I was born in the first year of Eisenhower's term. She was likely homecoming queen of her high school that year. And, oh by the way, she now occupied the role of my teacher.

But about being on the patrol.

My affections for my fifth grade teacher did not wane after that school year ended. And my position of honor the following year gave me continued opportunity to display my affection. You see, my route to my designated position as patroller allowed me to pass directly by the open door of her  classroom.

I am sure this happened on but a few occasions. Maybe, only once. But in my mind, now nearly six decades removed from those days, it was a daily ritual. I would sneak, ever so quietly into her class and (in this tale one must suspend disbelief and imagine the teacher had no peripheral vision) give an enormous bear hug to the young woman ever so diligently performing her task. She greeted my effort not with a reprimand but a smile that settled firmly in my heart.

Little did I know that I was not at that time the only member of my family whose attention she had captured. It turns out that my mom and dad had been equally taken by this young woman. And, as the fates would dictate, so shortly thereafter was my mom's baby brother.

A year later, when I was in seventh grade, my fifth grade teacher took on a new title for me. Aunt.

She died earlier this week. Yesterday she was eulogized by both her children. One took a moment to thank me for making her life, and that of her brother, possible. For the mere act of my having fallen in love.

This morning I am once more sneaking into that classroom, my safety patrol belt firmly on. To give my fifth grade teacher one final very long hug goodbye.