Singing the Sky

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A couple of hours ago, I got a call from my principal, who is in New York. I heard it in her voice, and I knew what it was. My co-teacher (the guy in the next room who works with the other half of expelled high school kids) passed away this morning. It was unexpected, and then again, it wasn’t. She asked me to call other teachers and let them know. That was hard. It’s like, people sound so happy to hear from you after three months, and then you lay it on them.

He had diabetes and congestive heart failure. We used to talk quite a bit, and he always told me that he wanted to wait until he daughter Mandy graduated from high school before he died. He was in the hospital three times last year. I’d visit him and he’d be so cheerful. He’d return to school the morning he was released sometimes, because he was so worried about extra sick days being deducted from his pay.

Mandy is really into raising sheep and rabbits. Even though Jerry felt horrible many, many days, he always found time to go to all of the 4-H competitions and the basketball games, and there were a lot of them. He made me look downright lazy, what with all he was always doing to help his daughter get on the road to a scholarship to A & M for veterinary medicine.

He was in the hospital getting his foot operated on and he needed a blood transfusion. It didn’t go well, and he died this morning.

Damn it, I really wish he could have gotten his wish. He was a devoted father, and he hung in there as a teacher, even though our district relegated him to the alternative school after some nasty politics in the ag department at the high school. Fuckers.

My principal always put the country boys in his room, just like she put the Hispanic kids in mine. He was so good with those kids. Lots of them are coming back this year.

I feel bad for everyone–his family, the students, my colleagues and myself. I spent more time talking to Jerry last year than any other person save my children. I figure at this point we spent over 300 hours yakking, and I’m really going to miss that. I’ll miss the stability he brought to the program. Nothing could get that man riled.

I felt pissed off that he had to worry about showing up to work when he didn’t feel well. That feeling went away when I was visiting him in the hospital and he wanted to hear every single solitary bit of mischief that the kids had been up to in his absence.

I’m just blathering on here, and I’ve had too much wine. I’m trying not to cry, as Sage has a friend spending the night. I hate funerals. I’m dreading starting school now. I’ll miss him.

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