When I began teaching, I found companionship among fine people. It was the best part of the job, especially after of the solitude of writing full time. I learned from them all, although I never became like any of them. Teaching, more than any other job, except perhaps writing, is all about personal style.

Many of my friends said they envied my knowledge. Fair enough; I envied their strengths as well. Adrianna could keep fifty kids in order on the athletic field. Crystal gave her kids the love they needed, and was patient beyond when patience was reasonable. Dan arranged the math department so the strong were challenged and the weak were not overwhelmed.

I give thanks for the companionship of these colleagues and friends, particularly for Barbara, who took me under her wing when I had just begun to teach. We taught different students from the same stories, which I referred to when I wrote a poem for her on her retirement.

For Barbara

You have spent your life
     growing barley beside the Tigris;
          building pyramids along the Nile.

Rowing beside Odysseus
     going home to Ithaca.
Walking the night
     with Harriet Tubman.
          And dreaming with Dr. King.

A thousand children
     you have taken with you
          on your journey,
     as they struggled toward
          maturity and grace.

You have spent your life well.

I never planned to be a teacher. I called it my day job until it became apparent that I was going to teach all the way to retirement. I would have preferred to be a full time writer; or a professor, as I would have been if writing had not seduced me. But I would have missed much.

By my best estimate, nearly 4000 children moved through my classroom. Sometimes I can still hear their laughter.