The left window seat of the big greyhound presented a classic view of the New York City skyline. On a bus heading south along the New Jersey Turnpike the music of the time was blasting out of the 1980’s style boom box. A large contingent of eighth grade students, in the hands of five “adult” chaperones were bound for the nation’s Capital. Flighty 14 years olds have a proclivity to play their favorite songs, or the latest hit, over and over again. “One thing is sure. That time will tell. Only time will tell .” I was sitting next to Annie Geisler and the lyrics from Asia’s chart topper “Only Time Will Tell” was unwillingly being imprinted infinitely in my brain. Only 22 years old , the words were gripping to me. I was already conscious that time always gives us an answer. I understood time could not be beaten , and it eventually catches us all . After scanning my surroundings of the youthful charges and their teachers I turned back to the window to see the open fields of Pennsylvania. What did time have in store for me? What story did time have in store for my traveling companions?
Johnny Atkins was holding court in the seat across from me. He was a popular, handsome, 14 year old wise guy. His family had moved from America’s Heartland in the 1970’s and bought a farm in a small New York hamlet. Johnny’s grades didn’t stand out , but he was certainly not lacking in intelligence. As a first year nervous teacher working hard to earn respect Johnny stood out to me. Most of my students made it easy for me to win their affection, Johnny, was one of the few who challenged me. He always did in private showing maturity beyond his years. “You’re not as cool as you think Mr. Siegel”, or “Stop trying to act like an adult Mr. Siegel.” He was right on both accounts, I wasn’t that cool, and was miles away from being a grown up. Johnny and I were different in many ways , but I always felt we maintained a mutual respect. In doing this story I was anxious to find out what time had done with Johnny. As is becoming common practice for me I found myself scanning Facebook chasing Johnny’s story. It turns out Johnny had started working on his parents farm before moving upstate. The kid I remembered as complex, had chosen to live a simple life. As I kept scrolling down I noticed his last post was from 2012. Curious, I dug deeper, and sent private messages to a couple of his childhood cronies. To my dismay I learned Johnny was taken by cancer in 2012. He left behind a wife, a child , and at least 40 years of living.
Three years ago this May was a turning point in my life. My story was setting up for the final chapter. I had just gone out on my own to open a business, my daughters had both left the nest and I was proceeding deeper into my new found passion of writing. I had written a book and I was reconnecting with many old friends and former students. I was finding some answers as to how time had dealt with the some of the people who were heading down the Jersey turnpike all those years ago. Three years ago, my assistant buzzed the intercom to tell me that Bobby Zantz was on the phone. I immediately recognized the name of the shy sweet kid that was in one of the first Social Studies classes I ever taught. “Mr. Siegel, I already read your book . I saw on line that you are having a book signing party and I want to come.” I informed Bobby of the details and immediately after hanging up the phone I looked him up on face book. I know sometimes pictures don’t tell the story so I was anxious to see my old student in person. A few days later Bobby Zantz came strolling into a favorite local restaurant for an unlikely reunion with his old teacher. It turned out Bobby has been married for 15 years, has two young boys and lives only an hour from me. He said he had seen my book online and wanted to give some insight of what life had given and taken from him. “I am a Social Studies teacher in the same district where you taught. I decided to teach because of the impact you had on me . I wanted you to know that and thank you in person.” It is touching to be told, in person, how the impression you make on people can steer them in certain directions. . Life gives to us, and it takes from us. But, I know the students in Bobby’s classes are on the receiving end.
Kris Bayner always had the right answer in my eight grade history class. She was cute , outgoing , ambitious and most notably exceedingly intelligent. With her shiny silver tinsel teeth she always wore a big smile . She came to class every day with an attitude that was ready to take on the world . There are a few select kids who are “can’t miss” , who possess abundant talent that makes you sure they will go on and leave an indelible mark with the time they have. I was positive Kris was going to be a great attorney, a radio producer for the likes of Don Imus, or a Pulitzer Prize winning author. After attending a Catholic private high school , she went on to a New York City University, where she graduated with high honors. All anyone could ever dream of , including the bright lights of the Big Apple, were in front of her. Instead, Kris decided to head back home to upstate New York and get a job writing for a local newspaper attempting in keep one foot on her career path. Most of the people close her speculated her other foot was more anchored to her high school boyfriend who was still attending college back in the Hudson Valley. Within a year of returning home, at the young age of 22, Kris was married, put her career plans in the backseat, and traveled across the country with her husband while he pursued his dream of being a professional athlete. Five years, and two children in they settled into the roles of a coach and a wife. From all accounts she has lived her life supporting her husband’s career of teaching golf. She unselfishly put her personal aspirations on the shelf to be a stay at home mom and her husband’s assistant. She has spent the last 25 years watching him compete in amateur events, at the same time having the primary duty of raising her family. I caught up with her recently on Facebook and asked her , as her age is the nearing the half century mark, if she had any regrets. “No regrets,” she quickly responded. “ Having fun, raising my children, and being supportive of my husband’s career have been my priorities. That is more than enough for me. I don’t waste any energy thinking “what if” or what other people may think what I could have done with my time . “It’s my life , after all.”
Don Lister was far from the stereotypical Middle School Teacher. A child of the sixties, he graduated from New Paltz Teachers’ college with a license to teach secondary English. Don loved the classics , and he had a penchant to quote Samuel Johnson or Leo Tolstoy. Despite his rich knowledge of all literature , he was far from a one dimensional personality. In 1983 he was only 35 years old , had taught 12 years of high school English and was in his second year as a school principal. On a Sunday night deep into May, Don gave me a ride home back to New Paltz after we had returned from the class trip. He was married , with three young children, but having an affair with the school guidance counselor. He shared with me in the car that he wasn’t cut out being for being an administrator. On the surface I didn’t think we had much in common . It was not till much later in life that I grew into appreciating what my leader was experiencing at the time. He had gotten many intrinsic rewards as a teacher, but felt like a slave to protocol as a high school principal. Within a year of that night Don Lister walked away from education, took a job as a package delivery driver , and filed for divorce. I never saw him again, but it turns out he worked 25 years in that delivery career, is now the proud grandfather of 6 and remains single. It has taken me a very long time to understand that change takes tremendous courage. “ Of the blessings set before you make your choice and be content” – Samuel Johnson
The bus continued on its way into the twilight towards Baltimore. I was 22 years old and my life was only beginning. It was seven years before I would marry, I was 13 years short of becoming a father, and 30 away from losing my mom . The music from the boom box was now playing the sounds of Joe Jackson “ we are young but getting old before our time” . Looking through the mist on the window out to open fields along the highway, I felt alone despite the noise surrounding me. For the passengers, both chaperones and students, time was still for the moment. The future was on our side, there was very little behind us , and only the open road in front. As the moon displayed itself in the half light I thought about what a valuable asset time was and how it seemed it would never run out on me. Today, 35 years later almost to the day, time is still flying over the heads of the people on that bus. The shadow it left behind us is much longer now. Bobby became a school teacher , Kris traded in her personal ambitions for a boy, , Don isn’t educating these days but happily carrying boxes , Johnny left us way before his time . As for me, I am still trying to find my voice, always searching, prodding, attempting to find a serenity that I know is unattainable. As long as we breathe there is time to cast more shadows. Is the road ahead already determined for us? Or will we be able to determine our own destiny ? As I continue to question, those lyrics embedded on my brain from decades ago keep looping….”One thing is sure ….. only time will tell.”
