Ruth Ann and a Lifetime of Teaching

          Three months ago I heard from a student I taught thirty years ago, Ruth Ann Peters, who sits today at the very edges of my memory, her features blurry after a lifetime of classes and students.  Dredging faces up from the muddy past is asking too much of a memory that weakens rather than sharpens as the years roll by.  That's the curse of a long career in the classroom.  But Ruth Ann is different, for even though I no longer have a firm memory of her features, I do have a firm and warm sense that we had a good connection all those many years ago, that we in fact liked each other.  That, of course, is not unusual, for over the years there were many to like—it’s the best part of the job, even if their images fade irretrievably.

            Ruth Ann saw I was registered on Facebook and sent me a note late in December 2012, hoping to "reconnect."  I replied politely of course, and then she wrote something back that I will always treasure:  “My favorite Cifelli memory,” she wrote, “is that you once gave me an A- on a paper and a comment that read, ‘This grade has more to do with your intelligence than your diligence.’  It has stuck with me till today reminding me that good is not good enough if I know I can do better!”  Imagine that a single seed sewn three decades ago rooted itself and still thrives in the life of a student I barely remember.  I couldn’t be more thrilled.  
          Teachers realize early on that happy classroom memories generally dissolve into cool, thin air as the years march along.  Holding onto them is as difficult as grabbing mercury--and then Miss Ruth Ann suddenly appears with a wonderful moment from 1983, a moment guaranteed to warm a January day thirty years later.  What a wonderful surprise.  And to Ruth Ann, thank you my dear, it means a lot.