Bonnie

One of the first pictures I took of Bonnie in September 1996

I was radiating sunshine on the morning of my very first day of my very first year of teaching. Everything excited me.

I had a mailbox in the main office! 

I had my own classroom - Room 108!

I had made it. The dream I worked so hard for was about to begin!

Teachers were told to report to the cafeteria to get a class roster and meet their students. I was eager to read the names of my kindergarten children, but when I was handed my class list there were no students on it. I immediately panicked. They hired me by mistake. There aren't enough kids and I will be shown the door. I quietly sidled up to my fellow kindergarten teacher, Bonnie, to show her the paper. 

Bonnie was a veteran teacher who knew how things worked. She was funny, animated, often irritated, and did not suffer fools gladly. I adored her. 

"Bonnie, look at this. I have no students. They are going to send me home."

She took one look and told me not to worry about it. At that time, our school admitted only deaf and hard of hearing students and classes were built as the year went on. Class sizes consisted of a maximum of 6 students.

"Stick with me" Bonnie said, "We can teach together until you get students."

And I did. Bonnie knew how to get things done in the school. She knew everybody. She had all the intel (gossip) and knew where all the bodies were buried. She also had a short fuse, a raspy smoker's voice, a working knowledge of ASL, and one foot out the door. I was energetic but green. We were a fantastic pair. 

All of my shortcomings were covered by her experience. I'd come up with ideas for lessons and she'd skillfully know how to execute them. We complimented one another perfectly. She easily went along with my plans and appeared happy to teach beside me without having to take on the burden of writing out excessively detailed lesson plans. I learned a great deal from Bonnie.

Once my class list grew, we still taught together. She'd bring her students to my room and we'd spend many happy days teaching and enjoying one another's company. 

We became friends outside of work too. Bonnie would sometimes drive us out to Atlantic City after school on Fridays. She enjoyed Bally's casino and we'd take advantage of her high-roller status with a free room, meal vouchers, and show tickets. Our weekends in A.C. flew by as we played the slots, ate, and laughed. In those days, I had very little money and would marvel at how easily she fed the machines. She once put $100 into a slot machine as an "experiment" just to see how few times it would hit. Meanwhile, I'd get depressed over losing $20 and rationalize it by thinking I got a room, a show, and meals for free at least. I'd spend a lot of time just watching her play and listening to her talk. Bonnie was talkative, opinionated, and could get herself comically worked up about things. I loved it. She delighted and amused me.

Bonnie retired a few years after I started teaching but our trips to A.C. or to each other's homes continued. However, at some point we lost touch. I called her a few years ago and we had a great time catching up. She sold her place in Brooklyn and was spending her time at her home in Halcottsville, NY. It was a cozy house in a charming village. 

Last week, I learned that Bonnie had a heart attack on July 24 and passed away. She was 79 years old. I've been thinking about Bonnie a great deal since I learned the news. Last night in a dream I ran into her. I told her I heard she died and she told me that was nonsense. She was annoyed at the rumor. We were both in a hurry so we said we'd meet again soon. We hugged. I walked away relieved she was okay. Upon waking, I was a bit confused. Reality tells me one thing while my dreams tell me another. Or did it? Perhaps the take away is that she's okay and we will meet again one day. 

Yes, I think I'll go with that.