First Day of Second Grade

And so it came to pass that my first full year of grammar school in La Crescent, Minnesota drew to a close.

I somehow managed to pass Mrs. Wilson's class, even after she announced boldly to my parents at the Parent - Teacher Conference that I would never amount to anything ... she said I was destined to be a D student, or perhaps a low C student if I worked really really hard and got really really lucky.

Well, after First Grade I received no job offers, nor did I see any colleges knocking on my door for early entrance, and no sports teams were begging me to come join them, so it appeared that I was headed for Second Grade. Oh joy ... just eleven more years of this stuff before going off to college.

Summer passed swiftly, too swiftly for my taste. My parents reassured me nearly every day that in Second Grade I would have a new teacher and that Mrs. Wilson was now officially a "thing of the past." Those recurring nightmares of Mrs. Wilson approaching my desk with a huge red marker were just scary dreams and I could relax now, my parents told me. The rest of my education would be a breeze, having survived the Dragon of Elementary Academia.

I finally almost started believing their whispered words, their comforting counsel, and when I opened my eyes early on the morning of my first day of Second Grade, I actually smiled.

I walked the seven blocks to school with a jig in my step. I had reclaimed the joyful spirit of childhood, and life was good again.

I entered the front doors of that hallowed institution, found my name on a list of second graders, and determined that I was to go to room 1-D and that my teacher was Mrs. Jones.

Upon finding room 1-D, I was pleased to discover that the other Joel and a cute girl named Cindy were in the class also. I had proposed to Cindy during lunch one day in first grade, and she had accepted, but we quickly realized that we didn't know what to do next -- how to actually get married and everything -- so we decided to wait until second or third grade because surely the school would teach us how to go about it.

I found an empty seat and sat down. It wasn't but two minutes later that the principal walked in, looking a little flustered and stressed, but I figured that was normal for the first day of school, what with trying to get all the kids in the right places and everything like that (and of course dealing with first graders who obviously wouldn't want to be there).

"Ahem," he said, clearing his throat. "Welcome back, boys and girls. I hope you all had a good summer. I have an announcement to make that you all will find very interesting."

Oh boy! I waited eagerly in anticipation. What could the news be?! Perhaps he was going to give us a longer recess break or longer lunch time or maybe more dessert!

"Ahem," he said again. "Unfortunately, Mrs. Jones is not going to be able to teach you this year due to some health concerns."

I had never met Mrs. Jones, but I was hoping she would be okay. Maybe we could make a get-well card for her, or bake some cookies and take them over to ...

My thoughts were interrupted by the principal clearing his throat, again.
"Ahem," he repeated. "Fortunately though, we have someone who is willing to step in to take her place this year. You will be happy to know that Mrs. Wilson has agreed to teach your class, and ..."

I don't remember the rest of his words ... I felt how Wiley Coyote must have felt every time an Acme Anvil fell on his head. I was dizzy. I thought I was going to faint. I heard the girl behind me whispering to the girl beside her, "Look, he's turning purple. I think he's dying."

The next couple of days were a blur. I didn't eat, I didn't sleep, I didn't shave. Well, I didn't shave anyways in first grade, but I did normally eat and sleep.

Then The Miracle occurred.

On Wednesday or Thursday of that first week, Dad came home from work and announced that he was being transferred to Clarksville, Tennessee, and yes of course we were all going to move there with him.

I fell to my knees in ecstasy. I didn't really understand who God was way back then, but I knew at that moment that he does care and watch out for us. And at that moment I also canceled a long standing earlier prayer request. "Dear God, you don't have to strike down Mrs. Wilson with a lightning bolt any more. You've figured out a better way to handle this."

(OK, I hadn't really made that request, but it seems to fit really well here in the story ...).

And we did move, just two weeks later. On my first day of my new second grade class in Clarksville, I met my new second grade teacher, Mrs. Francis Davis, and she was like an angel. She was the total opposite of Mrs. Wilson.

And my academic life was forever changed.

Dear Mrs. Wilson, it would be fascinating to talk to you again and to find out why you and I never quite hit it off. Maybe we could be great friends now. I seriously doubt now that you were part of some covert Communist clan trying to undermine the nation's educational system. But one never knows. I'm sure you've got stories to tell.

Oh Mrs. Wilson, by the way, I was a Valedictorian when I graduated from high school.