Book Excerpt for

May 1990 and Terrie’s cancer was clear. She moved quickly back into her routine at Haniel and began planning her August wedding to Tom. The idea of becoming a teacher had taken its place on the backburner as so many things do. She got back into a rhythm, a beat that made sense and set her on the path she embraced. Terrie was also making a good living, highly valuable to this multi-billion-dollar corporation so she didn’t think much of it when German executives called her and others from the American executive team into a Monday morning meeting soon after the “all clear” on her disease. The Pittsburgh offices were closing and relocating back to Duisburg, Germany. They offered to take Terrie with them. She was a huge asset, continued working even during the most intense treatment, and she kept the office running smoothly. Haniel would pay for everything, set her and Tom up in the new country, and Terrie would be set for life. Or she could accept a generous severance package, although they hoped Terrie stayed with them. Suddenly, there was nothing keeping Terrie from pursuing her dream of being a teacher. It was right there in front of her if she wanted it. The severance would help her, and she’d be able to really give the time to school. Becoming a teacher was something Terrie wanted for a long time. While earliest childhood into her preteen years saw her bitten by the acting bug and dreaming of stardom, teaching was something that went beyond just giving into a dream. It was about doing something for others after all she went through — something for kids. She felt she was given a gift by having turned six months into years. Six months that were now far more — a life. Terrie took the severance. Then she enrolled in Community College of Beaver County. Years before, she’d gone to university for a time but never finished. Now, she could get the education she’d always dreamed of and focus it on what she held dear — teaching. There’s an old joke: Those who CAN’T DO, TEACH. Those who CAN’T TEACH, TEACH P.E. Which, in the scheme of things, seems rather unfair to Phys-ed teachers, but whatever. Well, Terrie was a doer and her desire to teach came from a knowing and desire to do good. The old saying touched and then left her. Her devotion was complete and by the time she moved to Franciscan University in Steubenville to fully complete her degree, she was prepared. She was going for a B.A. in English with a focus on writing and literature. As Terrie began her time there already way into her 30s and two years into her studies, she got a shock she definitely wasn’t expecting — Tom had a stroke. Not massive, not forever debilitating, but a stroke just the same. Doctors concluded that his right carotid artery was fully occluded or blocked, as it were, and they were stuck. So much had already happened and it was now Terrie’s turn to care for Tom. Somehow, she believed this happened to remind her of just how fragile we all are. Terrie slowed her school down, took fewer classes so she could be there for her Tom. The two never discussed whether the stress of Terrie’s cancer may have led to all of this. The doctors said it was congenital, lying in wait until just the right moment. However, Terrie was afraid it happened because of her and Tom refused to talk about it because he never wanted her to think it was her fault. He knew it wasn’t and he also didn’t want her to put her dream on hold. So, he pushed to recover quickly. He didn’t want this to stand in her way and before either of them thought it was even possible, Tom was back up on his feet. Keeping her eye on Tom, Terrie continued on, her heart pounding at the close call of something taking him away from her. And by the winter of 1994, Terrie was now close to finishing her studies. She entered her senior year at Franciscan University and had only to secure a student-teaching position in an actual classroom environment for one semester to get that much closer to graduating. She was looking for a high school — senior year students on their way out. Simple, right? And Terrie figured it would be easy, so she sent out feelers and waited. But the waiting soon got harder and more desperate. Terrie found herself down to literally the last few hours of the window available for her to get a student teaching position. After all this time, all these years of coming to the other side of cancer — and having to go to monthly check-ups — after giving up a chance at a lucrative job in a unique city that would keep her set for life, here Terrie was potentially having to push back graduation a full year all because of this one little thing. As the minutes ticked by and day turned into night, Terrie began wondering about her choice. What was she thinking? Who was she kidding? She was so stressed that all she could do was cook. Tom watched her as she made a huge feast for just the two of them. Terrie just couldn’t seem to stop herself and Tom said nothing, knowing this was her process, feeling for her, unable to do more than just watch. By 8:30 at night, there was a spread to make even the most generous host blush. Then the phone rang. They froze and Tom grabbed it, asked who it was then handed it to Terrie. A middle school. Terrie would be assisting a teacher in a 6th grade class at a middle school in Steubenville. Not the high school students she hoped for — no seniors on their way to college or real life, the real world. Junior high school kids. For one semester. “Take it or leave it,” was basically the response she heard when Terrie pointed that out. She took it. Harding Middle School is in Steubenville, Ohio. It was January, deeply cold, and from the moment Terrie stepped foot in the hallways of this junior high, she wondered what she was doing. Due to the chemo and the intensity of her treatment, her immune system was heavily compromised. Starting in a middle school in the middle of winter with kids who are all runny noses, flying mucous and constant stomach viruses racing unchecked was not ideal, but Terrie figured she would turn it into a good situation… find a way. From the moment she walked in the front doors, Terrie knew there was a fight breaking out. Although she hadn’t been in junior high in more years than she cared to admit, she knew the signs immediately — kids running down the hall, sounds of the crowd, that hungry look in their eyes as they moved toward the “event.” What Terrie wasn’t used to was teachers moving away from the action as opposed to wading in to stop it. Fix it. See how they could help. This flight reflex confused and concerned her. And it was anathema to all Terrie believed and she went in the other direction — toward the fight and into the fray. The looks thrown her way as she followed the conflict were many, filled with surprise and irritation, and she ignored all of them. “Do the right thing, Terrie,” her head told her. And she listened. As Terrie got closer, the looks were different — they were coming from the students and an odd silence came over everything even as the fight continued. Harding teachers never interfered in fights. No one ever came to the rescue. Who was this chick? Paying no attention, Terrie pushed through the ogling bystanders, the diehards continuing their chants of “Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!” and the flailing fists. “Stop it. Right now!” And they did, staring at Terrie as if she were some mythological creature or fairytale being they had heard stories of but never seen before, which based on what Terrie had just witnessed with the fleeing teachers seemed to be pretty close to the truth. No teacher had ever done this before. What the…? “Get to class,” Terrie said firmly, but also with a sort of confident respect the kids were even more unfamiliar with. “Now.” She didn’t yell. She didn’t have to and they all sort of looked at each other, not really knowing what to do. It was so surreal and yet they felt compelled to listen to her. “Go on,” Terrie urged. The crowd dissipated and all the kids took off to their respective rooms, nooks, crannies, corners of the school. After they were gone, throwing several backward glances — Terrie went to the office to find her assigned room. The day was just beginning. Joanna Polimeni had been at Harding for 34 years. She was a tenured Language Arts teacher of unruly students who discovered a system that worked for her. Her morning kids were the best and the brightest. As the day progressed, they became restless, less focused and more in need of help, time, and discipline. Joanna had no time for any of those three things, so to stay in Ms. Polimeni’s class, you better be prepared or get out. There were six classes of sixth graders Terrie assisted with. She quickly learned the lay of the classes on that first day. She seemed to get along with the kids and kept reminding herself that while junior high wasn’t her first choice, it was only one semester. Hang in there. But she was wiped out on that first day. It took just about everything out of her and when she got home, Terrie was barely able to move. She had to make this work, or she’d have to stay another year, find another school and graduate later. She didn’t want to squander her time like that. She’d learned how precious each moment was and refused to let it slip away so frivolously. In the sixth period on her third day, in walked Merle Thompson and something happened. The entire classroom changed, kids rushed him, calling out, “Merle!” This smaller than average, disheveled kid whose hole-filled shoes didn’t match, swimming in torn, dirty clothes that were far too big for him, and a barely-there jacket in an Ohio January was being treated like a rock star. He also had a bright, sunny disposition and a smile that could charm anyone. There was such joy in Merle’s whole presence that Terrie was instantly intrigued by him. Merle wasn’t in class Terrie’s first two days and she also noticed he didn’t have any books, notebooks, no backpack — basically, he was empty-handed. She was curious what this new, extraordinarily popular boy’s story was and how Ms. Polimeni would deal with him. “Hello, Merle,” Joanna said with a practiced air. Merle smiled, bright, happy, “Hi, Ms. Polimeni.” “Do you have your homework?” Merle shook his head, easy, “No, ma’am.” Ms. Polimeni’s expression — or lack thereof — never changed. “Do you have your supplies and your textbooks?” Merle’s smile never wavered, “No, ma’am.” Joanna nodded, clearly signaling him in a way that was long-established, and Merle picked up his desk and chair, waved to the class, and went into the hall as the bell announcing the start of the period rang and the kids called out his name, “Merle!” Terrie looked out the window in the door to see Merle set up his table and desk in the hall. He sat down, pulled a baseball out of his pocket and started tossing it into the air. She was rivetted. So rivetted in fact that she didn’t hear Ms. Polimeni call her name or the kids shuffling in their seats or even the second bell ring. Until — “Mrs. Suica-Reed.” Firm, loud enough to be clearly authoritative but not enough to be a shout. It was a tone and voice that was very well-versed in how to gain the attention of whomever was not paying attention to the voice’s owner. Terrie jumped and looked over at Ms. Polimeni. Joanna again was expressionless, waiting. Terrie noticed the whole class peering at her and she pulled herself away from the glass and back to the kids, the room, her job. But Merle still filled her mind. As soon as class was done, Merle returned his desk and chair to the room. His smile was just as bright, just as happy. Kids crowded at the door waiting for him as he said, “Goodbye, Ms. Polimeni.” Joanna didn’t even look up from her desk where she was grading papers, “Goodnight, Merle.” Merle smiled at Terrie and walked out to join his admirers. Terrie watched as the door closed then turned to see Joanna looking at her before going back to the papers. There were blackboards to clean, papers to file, books to put back in bookshelves, tomorrow’s lesson plan to study, morning lessons to write on the board. Terrie began all this but couldn’t get that bright, sunny, disheveled kid out of her mind. It finally got to the point that she stopped and went over to Joanna. Ms. Polimeni kept grading papers, not missing a beat, not giving Terrie any leeway. “Who is Merle?” Terrie asked. Joanna didn’t hesitate, “A kid like any other.” Terrie was already shaking her head when Joanna asked, “Anything else?” “Do you see how the kids react to him?” Ms. Polimeni put down her red pencil and rubbed her eyes. It was a definite, “Oh, Lord, please give me strength” gesture. “Terrie, Merle is just another boy.” And that was that. Terrie wanted to ask more, talk more, LEARN more about this boy but Joanna was shut down. The subject of Merle Thompson was closed. “At least for now,” Terrie thought as she continued her work. The next day, 6th period, the same thing again with Merle. Rock star entrance, happy-go-lucky sparkle, no homework or supplies, sent to the hall, pulled out baseball, tossed it in the air. A boy like any other? Then why couldn’t Terrie stop thinking about him? Why did she feel compelled to do something for him? Day 3. 6th Period. And it began just as the other two with Merle. Terrie had enough. “I want to tutor Merle,” Terrie told Joanna just as he walked out the door and into the hall, adding, “out in the hall.” The teacher looked at her with genuine curiosity, “Why?” “There’s something special about him.” Joanna Polimeni regarded that statement for a few moments. She again went expressionless, keeping her feelings on the subject to herself. For now. All she ended up saying before turning back to the class was, “It won’t make a difference.” As Terrie opened her mouth to respond, Ms. Polimeni was addressing the class, moving on. She didn’t say no. She didn’t discipline Terrie for even asking. And she also hadn’t explained why it wouldn’t make a difference. What Terrie’s response would have been to any of that, she wasn’t sure. She was stuck between telling Joanna, “You’re wrong,” and asking, “Why not?” She also had a few choice words prepared to ask why she didn’t help Merle herself. He clearly needed it. Beyond just the schoolwork. His clothes, his entire visage was obviously the product of something NOT happening in his outside life, but none of that came out, and as Terrie opened the classroom door to approach Merle in the hall, she realized something — Ms. Polimeni hadn’t said, “No,” true, but… She hadn’t said, “Yes” either. “Open the door, Terrie, and if she tries to stop you, deal with it then,” was what her heart told her. Terrie pulled the door open and stepped out, then closed it behind her and… Nothing. Not a word. “All right, then,” she thought Merle was tossing the ball again. Terrie approached him and he watched her, eyes hesitant, smile gentle. He held the ball and waited. “Hi, Merle,” Terrie said. “Hi, Mizz Reed,” he responded, easy enough but Terrie sensed his guard was up. “What do you want?” was on his mind. Looking at him again Terrie couldn’t blame him. She really took him in this time, studying him in a way she hadn’t been done before. How often had this boy been let down? Pushed aside? Overlooked? Left behind? “I’m here to help you. I’d like to tutor you out here, Merle. Starting tomorrow.” Merle stared at her for a long moment. It was as if he were listening to her in a foreign language, which from what Terrie could see might have very well been true. Not that he didn’t understand the words themselves but may have never heard them put to him in quite that way. Then he asked the same question Joanna Polimeni broached. “Why?” “Because you’re special, Merle. Hasn’t anyone ever told you that?” He studied her a moment longer, still unsure but something flashed behind his eyes. “I guess no one has,” Terrie thought, answering her question for herself. “Okay,” was all he said then went back to tossing the ball. “Okay. See you tomorrow.” Terrie went back into the classroom, floating on air.