Mrs. Shelly

“Mrs. Shelly?”

Sharron Shelly delicately placed her stack of papers on the corner of the desk before she turned to face the doorway. The man standing at the door had startled her, but try as she might, she knew she could only move so quickly these days. She fixed her glasses as they rested on the bridge of her nose and squinted as she tried to make out the face in her classroom doorway.

“Mrs. Shelly?” the man repeated.

“Yes, yes. That’s me. Who’s there?” she called back.

The man hesitated for a moment. He cleared his throat. “My name is Damien. Damien Soto. You probably don’t remember me, but I wanted to stop by and see if you were in your room. You see, I was in your classroom, when I was in 4th grade.”

Mrs. Shelly nodded slowly. She searched through the labyrinth of old class photos and rosters stored safely in her mind until she settled on a “Damien.” 

“That was a long time ago,” Mrs. Shelly said slowly.

“Yes it was,” Damien said.

Mrs. Shelly was as decorated of a teacher as you could find. Many had given up trying to predict when she would retire. Some thought 55, others who knew her closely thought closer to 65, but now, at 71, she was the oldest teacher to teach in the district. And she had no intention of leaving. Not yet.

“You were in my very first class, right here at this school,” Mrs. Shelly said. “You sat over by the window for a lot of the year.”

Damien’s mouth flapped open and closed, astounded that the woman remembered that detail. 

“You borrowed a sharpie marker off of my desk when I wasn’t looking and wrote your name on the underside of your desk, if I do recall correctly.”

Damien nodded slowly. “I did, amongst other things… That’s part of the reason that I’m here.”

Mrs. Shelly nodded, looking the man up and down. He had changed. They all do. Thirty years will do that to a person. But even now, staring at the man who could have been a total stranger, she saw the 4th grader in him. Mrs. Shelly always believed that you could see glimpses of the adult in a child, and vice versa.

“I’m here to say that I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” Mrs. Shelly asked, resting her hand on a chair nearby.

“Well, sorry for the way I acted. I don’t think I was a very good student.”

“You were not,” Mrs. Shelly said flatly. “I still remember the days I left here, deflated and frustrated. I do not quit easily, Mr. Soto, but you were a special kind of student.”

Damien dropped his head. He knew she would react this way, and he knew he deserved what was coming, but he still found it a tough pill to swallow.

“I won’t keep you long, Mrs. Shelly. I just wanted to stop by and apologize for the way I acted. I was immature and you were a great teacher.”

Mrs. Shelly laughed. “I was absolutely not a great teacher, dear. I was brand new, fresh out of school. Tell me,” she said, pausing to move a step closer to the tall man in the doorway. “What brought you here today?”

“Well, I’m picking up my daughter from Kindergarten. She started here a few weeks ago. And I guess, if I’m being honest, I’ve been meaning to stop in a talk with you since she started here. But it’s taken a while to realize that I need to make this apology.”

“Ah, a daughter in kindergarten. Your world has changed greatly, hasn’t it?” she said, smiling. “There are few greater gifts than the opportunity to teach a young, unmolded mind. Even in frustrations while teaching, we find great comfort in the things we learn.”

Mrs. Shelly nodded slowly, her eyes glazed as she poured over the memories of the past. “You were one of my most difficult students,” she recounted. “Four principals, six room changes, and countless teammates have come and gone. I’ve seen thousands of faces through that very same doorway. And I won’t lie: you were one of the hardest.”

Damien felt as though he shouldn’t have come. Shame rose through him as he watched his teacher recount his failures.

“But what made you a unique student wasn’t a poor attitude, or a lack of maturity. It was your promise. I could see in you a young boy ready to light the world on fire. You were full of electricity, everywhere you went, in everything you did. And I wanted so badly to help you be the best student you could be. And when I struggled, I felt as though I had failed.”

“But you didn’t give up on me,” Damien said. “You never gave up on me. And that’s why I wanted to come here to say that I’m sorry.”

Mrs. Shelly closed her eyes. “I appreciate that, young man. But there’s no apology necessary. Our classroom mirrors life. Every chance we have in the classroom to learn something, we also have in life. And teaching you, all of those years ago, taught me to be a better teacher, and a better person. We did not see eye to eye,” she said, opening her eyes and smiling. “But maybe, just maybe, if you hadn’t been in my class that year, maybe I wouldn’t still be teaching here today as I am. Just as I taught you, you left your mark on me. A mark I carry with me into each new school year, ready to mold and change the students before me.”

Damien didn’t know what to say. 

“You should go pick up your daughter. I’ve kept you long enough,” Mrs. Shelly said. “But Damien, thank you for coming back.”

Damien nodded. He felt the weight lifting from his shoulders as he turned to leave.

“Thank you, Mrs. Shelly. It was great to see you, honestly.” 

“Tell me,” Mrs. Shelly called after him. “Before you go. What do you do now?”

The man turned, his hands in his pockets, looking the old woman up and down. “I’m a teacher, Mrs. Shelly. I teach 4th graders.”