The Chemist
“To know even one life has breathed
easier because you have lived; that is to have succeeded.”
---Ralph Waldo Emerson
In
my junior year of high school. As my
parent’s separation continued, I attempted to excel in every area of
school. As usual, I struggled. I wrestled with Latin II and third year
English classes. My junior year was perhaps my most difficult school year on
nearly every level. Home was not
good. Running was not good. My health
was constantly compromised. Hamstring
and past foot injuries hampered my running performances. Which frustrated me to no end.
I
never enjoyed being social with girls outside of school. So I seldom went over anyone’s house and I
couldn’t really invite anyone over to my house because I didn’t know how the
atmosphere in my house would be.
Besides, I felt I was more needed at home helping ease my Mom’s caring
of my sister, thirteen and half years my junior. I preferred being around the baby, because
caring for another individual felt peaceful and congruent with my soul.
There
was almost no real stability in my life, with the exception of some classes in
school. Which gave me some solace. I felt more me when running alone, throwing
discus and shot. Or taking care of my
little sister. It was all just easier
than everything else in my life at the time.
My walks home from school were torturous more than ever. But once I
arrived home, saw that my Mom and my sister were fine, I was okay inside once
again.
I
was so focused on the goings on at home that some wondered why I wasn’t enthused
to get behind the wheel of a car and learn to drive. I had decided it was a big responsibility
and that I could wait for the right moment to be trained and then get my
license. This frustrated my Mom. Yet I was willing to walk and run everywhere. Many times on a Saturday, I would take my
sister out for hours. Placing her in the
fold up stroller. I’d either stroll her
to the more east side of town where there was a playground and a number of
baseball/softball fields. We’d play for
at least two hours or till she’d conk out.
Then I’d walk about a mile back home.
It was total fun.
Other
times, I would ask my Mom what we needed.
And I’d take some money, to pick up milk and bread on my way back to
Haworth from downtown Bergenfield. I
would stroll my sister all the way to Bergenfield. We’d window shop for a spell, along
Washington Avenue. Then our last stop
would be the health food-store. By then
my sister would be tired. I’d change
her, and we’d go into the store and for thirty minutes I’d get an education on
health. All new ideas on algae and
grains. I wanted to create the best
health. There was so much unhealth I had
known. I decided I was going to make it
better.
The
health food-store workers and owner would enrich my mind and give me free
samples. I tried and finished every one
of them. Even, when they didn’t taste
good. I just accepted that it was just
another way to learn how to think about life.
Leaving
the store with my sister in the stroller, I felt so enriched with knowledge. It made me feel good inside. On my way home about halfway, I’d stroll with
my sister into the Dumont Grand Union supermarket, picking up bread and milk. About once a month I’d pick up a ten-pound
bag of Dog Chow, to boot. I’d put the
ten-pound bag of chow over my left shoulder.
Then strap the bag of milk and bread in my right hand push the stroller
for the next one and a half miles home.
I felt fulfilled.
As
time progressed in my junior year of high school. I was antsy to finish. Because the one thing I knew, was I had one
more year of high school. And then soon
after I could start my life, by becoming a U.S. Marine. A dream I’d had since I
was about four. No one in my family had
ever joined the Marines, but the idea turned me on.
Before
I knew it, it was the last day of my junior year. As we sat in our homeroom, awaiting our
report cards from our homeroom teacher, Ms. Akillian. Ms. Akilian would announce our names in
alphabetical order, and we’d come up and receive our report cards. Ms. Akillian, stood nearly five foot in
height. She was stocky and graying. She wore glasses that fit her, and always wore a serious scientific face. She was a Chemistry teacher. I knew I would never be smart enough to take
one of Ms. Akillian classes. I’d felt
guilty and ashamed that I was not smart enough to take one of her classes. Yet, she was my gracious homeroom teacher
everyday for all four of my years of high school.
I’d
always wondered what Ms. Akillian thought of me. Because she to me, overflowed with high
levels of brilliance. I wondered if some
day, I could be brilliant. And maybe
she’d nod and tell me, ‘You’re smart.’
And I’d thank her. So here we
were June 1979 awaiting our report cards for the fourth and final marking
period. I knew I passed everything. However, to me it was, ‘what grades did I
get’? As I sat next to Sue Spaeth, a
brilliant kid in her own right. Ms. Akillian
paused, before calling out my name. She
said, “Now everyone, I want to tell you something. This next student achieved something. And it is the biggest improvement I’ve ever
seen as a teacher. I want you to
congratulate her. She made the Honor Roll.” I did not think it was me. I got mentally lost. I figured, I wasn’t listening attentively
like I always had done in her homeroom.
Then
I heard her say, “Jody-Lynn, I’m proud of you.
Come up here to get your report card.”
She smiled, “Congratulations.” I
was stunned. Handing me my report card,
she continued, “You did good.” As she
retained her smile and clapped for me. I
thanked her. I had received all A’s and
one B, which was in Latin.
That
day, Ms. Akillian Reached God’s Perfection as she pretty much always had as my
homeroom teacher. Back then, rewards
were not many. But when they came, they
were priceless. And Ms. Akillian let me know I belonged as a student and in the
‘smart’ circle. With her even-keeled
demeanor, Ms. Akillian let me know, ‘if no one else is proud of you, I am.’ And she read my mind. And that meant a lot to me. Thank you Ms. Akillian for making life a
little sweeter.
Afterword: One day in 1995, sixteen years later. It was a warm sunny day and my running coach
Tom was training a new runner I’d not met or known about. She was running incredibly fast, she
graduated from Texas A&M. She was a
phenomenal distance runner. Known to be
able to run 10 kilometers in 32:30-33:40 range.
I was doing a different track session.
Here we were at the Caldwell High School track in West Caldwell, New
Jersey. At the end of the workout, we both wanted to do a cool down run. Tom and everyone else was leaving and I told
Tom I’d show her around the two plus mile block for cool down. Her name was Roxanne. We introduced ourselves to one another. The next question was, “Where did you go to
high school?” She responded, then I in
turn responded with, “Northern Valley Regional High School Demarest.” She smiled as we ran and said, “Hey, my aunt
teaches there.” I perked up and said,
“Really?!” She said, “Yeah! She was a
Chemistry Teacher. Well she’s just
retiring.” I responded, “Was her name
Ms. Akillian?” Roxanne responds,
“Yes!” I respond, “Holy Cow! She was my homeroom teacher for four
years. Boy do I have a story for you…By
the way, tell your aunt from me, Thanks!
She really helped me. I’m
grateful for her.”
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