For Good. . .

On Monday, (first day at my new school) I'm walking back from lunch and a wifi run and this young man who is working stops me and says "What is your last name?" I told him - he said, "didn't you used to work at Inwood or Westwood - one of those 'wood schools?" I said yes, that I worked at Westwood. Yesterday, he passed me while I'm walking with my sister and says "Hi Ms.Jimmerson." My sister just rolls her eyes and says "Really? You know him?" (It always amazes her when my former students show up far away from Westwood. In Winter Haven, it makes sense, but not in Davenport.)
Today, I'm digging around in my storage space looking for some office supplies and a young man comes around the corner looking for one of the carts they supply to move stuff. I tell him he can have the one I'm using because at the moment, I'm not really using it. He comes to get it and says "I can't remember when or where but you were my teacher." We went over the time and place, he was so, so nice. (As a plus, he told me I don't look any different now than then so SCORE!)
I've been sorting, cleaning, digging through a lot of my teacher stuff this summer. I keep finding things that I inherited when my friend retired. Ii have borders and a dolly from Mrs. Smith, lots of books and other good stuff from my friends Mrs. Grant and Mrs. Turner. I find books that I used with Mrs. Barry, when we taught the same subject, things that I shared with lots of other teachers.
Looking through and packing up my library stuff, I find things that my friend Mrs. Sharon found to make my media center pretty. I found beautiful letters that my friend Mrs. Kathy decorated, my wooden letters that my sweet church babies decorated for me. I see lists and things that I made to organize that huge media center space at Westwood and I remember all the people who came and helped me move and rearrange and clean.
     
     I keep finding things, but those things remind me that the most  important things are not THINGS.  Mostly, I'm amazed by the time and energy that other people have poured into my life.   When I think of my 22 years at Westwood, this sums it up:

So, let me say before we part:
So much of me
Is made of what I learned from you.
You'll be with me
Like a handprint on my heart.
And now whatever way our stories end
I know you have rewritten mine

If I could write or sing a song about how I feel, this would be it:

For Good - from Wicked