AITING IN LINE BY THE DOOR OF my second-grade classroom, I tried to be still so my classmates and I could march down the hall to the lunchroom. Until we all conformed to our teacher’s expectations, we were wasting valuable time better suited to eating or playing during recess.
Miss Johnson stood by the door, beautiful, tall, and slender with delicate features. Her usually gentle face wore a solemn determination as she stood barring the door with one finger pressed tightly to her lips in the “Shh” posture. It didn’t take long for that gesture to achieve its desired effect: once everyone noticed her, there was total silence.
Having achieved order, the gentle sergeant led her charges through the jungle of lunch lines and cafeteria chaos.
It wasn’t surprising that Miss Johnson could maintain order throughout lunch—I expected that. The amazing thing was that this public school teacher remembered to help me with my peculiar dietary needs in spite of her other duties. “This student cannot have anything with pork or lard in it,” she’d say, handing back my lunch tray to the server. “Would you please serve her some corn instead of the greens with bacon?” Then, satisfied that my plate was “kosher,” she’d direct me to the table with the others; my mother’s request made at the beginning of the school year that I not be served any pork products was faithfully carried out each day in the lunch line.
As I watched Miss Johnson eat her lunch out of a brown paper bag, it never dawned on me that her understanding and thoroughness went beyond mere courtesy.
An Elevated Post
Another amazing thing was how Miss Johnson treated people—especially those of a race different from hers. Being a minority in a public school in the heart of the old south gave one the feeling of tokenism, that I was part of a few sprinkled in for good measure—a notion hard to accept, even for a second grader. However, in Miss Johnson’s classroom I forgot that I was a minority student. She treated me only with respect—just as she treated everyone else. I knew her goodness and felt her kindness every day in the classroom in many other ways.
But it wasn’t until the big test that I came to truly
understand her character—and mine.
“Joy,” Miss Johnson called in her gentle clear-voiced tone, “will you be the name monitor while I take a phone call?”
“Yes, Ma’am,” I said with a smile, and smugly took my place at the board. She flashed me a quick smile back as she jetted out the door. My heart quickened as I felt she had a special place for me in her heart. True or not, it was certainly mutual as far as I was concerned.
My warm, fuzzy glow at the opportunity of being honored as a trusted comrade faded quickly as a ruckus erupted in the front row. Rico had thumped a paper football that hit Wiake in the ear. The result was a full-blown scuffle. “That’s it!” I hollered above the exchange of insults and threats, “You’re both getting your names on the board!” True to my word, I wrote down both names in a frustrated blur, my hand shaking. What will Miss Johnson think if I can’t maintain order in the classroom? I thought.
My heart still pounding, I hardly heard Wiake’s offer the first time. It seemed like an unrecognizable mumble.
“What did you say?” I asked in unbelief that he should say anything after such an offense.
“I said, if you take my name off the board you can have this,” he repeated in a syrupy voice as he pulled a whole package of my favorite cookies from the recesses of his backpack.
“You mean the whole thing?” I asked in wonder, gazing at the loot.
“The whole thing,” he retorted, still smiling sweetly.
My stomach was the first to answer with a loud growl. My mouth began to salivate at just the thought of those choice morsels. I looked at the clock; two whole hours until lunch on a stomach that had missed breakfast. Wiake opened the package as I hesitated and crunched down one, two, and now three of what would be mine if I accepted his offer. He looked as if he intended to munch away all the tempting treats.
“OK,” I relented as I erased his name and quickly rushed toward his desk. I grabbed one of the cookies and shoved it into my mouth. Just one taste, I thought, then I’ll feel better. With the enticing delicacy headed for my taste buds, I suddenly froze in my tracks with the sound of one word: “Joy!”
Caught in the Act
The sound of Miss Johnson’s voice made me afraid to look toward the door where I knew she stood, witness to at least the most pertinent details of the crime. Still in shock, I had to look at her. In her face I saw such disappointment, and those usually sparkling eyes stung with the look of betrayal.
“Come out here,” she beckoned to the hallway in a tone I dared not disobey, even though I wished the floor would open and swallow me up to remove me from the impending confrontation. Now in the hallway, I stood like a sculpture of ice—cold and numb—waiting for her to yell at me or go get the paddle.
Instead she bent her tall frame down, making sure she could look into my eyes. “Joy,” she said in a shaky tone as tears welled in her eyes, “We never take bribes. God’s Word says this is wrong. I hope you’ll always be honest and never take a bribe again.”
“I won’t, Miss Johnson,” I blurted out as sobs heaved in my chest. It would have been easier to take a scolding or spanking than to see how I hurt her.
“And there’s something else,” she continued. “We are Seventh-day Adventists. God has given us great light to be an example to the rest of these children. We are to be different; do you understand?”
I nodded my head as I tried to take it all in. She prayed with me and assured me that not only had she forgiven me, but God had also. She hugged me and escorted me back inside where the wide-eyed class wondered what “punishment” I had received.
As Miss Johnson resumed class, my mind was still numb trying to digest it all. I felt her love and tenderness, and did I hear her say she was a Seventh-day Adventist?
Questions for Reflection
1. When were you redeemed from a painful experience by a kind and trusted parent or mentor? What lasting effect has that had on your life?
2. What makes someone a trusted counselor? Words? Actions? Both?
3. What are the most important characteristics that should be developed in our children today? List at least five.
4. How are you involved in seeing those personality traits developed in students in your school, church, and community?
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Thank You
Years later I sat among a pile of boxes, sorting for a move. Suddenly, I was arrested in my progress by a treasure, an old class picture. There I am with a face different from the rest, except for Ronald, the other child thrown into the mix for good measure by a school system that had abolished formal segregation long ago. Yet as I look in all of our faces, we are one. One body united by the love of an amazing woman who was far ahead of her time.
Miss Johnson’s words ring in my mind still: “We are Seventh-day Adventists; we are to be an example to the rest.” I wonder if I’ll ever see her on this earth again. I don’t know how it could be possible. Surely such a gifted and beautiful teacher could have married if she wanted. If she did, how could I ever find her with a married name I do not know?
If I could, I would so much like to tell her what a difference she made in my life by showing me what it means to be a Seventh-day Adventist. Maybe I’ll have to wait until I see her in the kingdom. What a joyous reunion that will be when I tell her that one of the stars in her crown has my name on it.
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Joy Wendt lives in Pikesville, Tennessee, and enjoys writing and serving in pastoral ministry with her husband, David. They are blessed with two precious children.