Random Act of Gratitude #55: A Home When Needed (Part II)

I'm determined to be caught back up by Monday. Wish me luck.

The summer after I finished teachers' college was an interesting one. Within three days of finishing, I had packed my belongings into the car, gone to see a friend get married, seen my cousin admitted into the hospital, and had surgery myself. What followed were a few months of recovery, part-time jobs, and uncertainty in my career.

Things weren't in a great place for new teaching jobs at the time, and I eventually resigned myself to the dauting reality that I might well end up having to live with my parents for a year in the small town where they had moved and where I knew nobody.

I was splitting my time between a daycare and a lumber mill (yes, re-read that and laugh) and proceeded to set up an after-school program through the daycare.

Then I got the call offering me a slot as an occasional (supply) teacher. Despite the risk that comes with unguaranteed employment, I accepted and called up the woman who had been my landlady for the last two years of school, knowing my chances were slim-t0-none. The wee apartment was cheap and centrally located in the city.

"I can't believe you called," she said. "The man living there just told me yesterday that he'll have to move out in a few weeks."

And so I was back (for about a decade, as it turned out).

But in the meantime, I had no place to stay.

Enter Cheryl and Chris. Cheryl had been my associate teacher for my first major teaching block at the school where I now teach.

Upon hearing about my situation, she might have blinked before offering to put me up until the apartment became available.

And so I became the guy in the basement at their home for a month or so. Cheryl, Chris, and their oldest (and only, at the time) daughter invited me into their home and family. Toss in that their house was right on the lake, and it was particularly lovely.

We still laugh about a few odd misconceptions that came from that time.

#1. Despite what Cheryl somehow came to believe, I do not love fish sticks. Who loves fish sticks? Still trying to figure out how on earth she got that idea.

#2: I did not hate everything she cooked. I hated the eggplant lasagna. That's it. The rest was quite delicious. Well, except for the fish sticks.

To top it off, Cheryl gave me a list of principals with whom I was to make face-to-face contact during the "get my name out there" stage of supply teaching.

And so, today, my thanks goes out to Cheryl and her family (now my pickle family) for giving me a hand and a home when I was just starting out.