Tuesdays for Mrs. Johnson

When I missed a serve on game point, my volleyball coach yelled. When I missed a free throw, my basketball coach yelled. When my mom noticed my first tattoo at age 20, she yelled. Teachers didn’t yell at me often, but I remember when one did.

On a fall day 29 years ago, teammates and I were loitering in the halls of Hawthorne Junior High before volleyball practice. Someone learned that lockers could be opened by wiggling them just right. In our pre-practice boredom, we tried it on the group closest to the gym and next to Mrs. Johnson’s room.

I’d heard legends in the halls of Mrs. Johnson. She scared me. I avoided passing her between classes, and I cautiously looked at my schedule each semester fearing I’d be sentenced to her English class.

While we fiddled with lockers, we didn’t realize Mrs. Johnson was in her room. She heard our racket, surfaced like a snake and snarled, “what do you think you are doing?”

We weren't stealing. We were snooping and trying to beat the system. I didn’t think we were in the wrong, so I tried some sarcasm and humor with Mrs. Johnson—one of the dumber moves of my youth. She shook her finger and shouted a string of rhetorical questions as she slid toward me. I wanted my mommy.

When I began attending a new church a few years ago, I noticed Mrs. Johnson sitting toward the front. The sight of her slight build and gray hair still triggered terror in my gut. The fear of God paled in comparison to my teenage fear of Mrs. Johnson.

Mrs. Johnson has got to be in her 80’s by now. I worry that although I’ve offered a few reminiscing comments at coffee hours, she really wouldn’t grasp how grateful I am for that confrontation years ago.She imparted that although what I was doing may not have been punishable by law, my time could be better spent. Those face to face seconds forced me to be accountable for my actions. It didn’t matter what others were doing. It mattered what I was doing.  She could have ignored us and kept on grading, but she didn’t. She paid attention. It took me longer than I’d like to admit that Mrs. Johnson wasn’t mean; I was wrong.

Today when she talks about her years teaching, Mrs. Johnson exudes a kindness and love of people that illustrate how deeply she loves the kids she taught, praised and scolded. Recently she told me that she looks forward to Tuesdays because both American Falls Mayor Marc Beitia and I are former Hawthorne students and she loves to see us all grown up and involved in our communities. No pressure here, Mayor, but Mrs. Johnson reads (and loves) your every word.

Tuesdays are about to get a little makeover for Mrs. Johnson as my friend Susie Matsuura is going to share this weekly space with me. Susie isn’t a former Hawthorne Hawk, but she is a lifelong Idahoan with a great sense of humor and humanity who is driven by kindness and her sense of right. Susie is a lot like Mrs. Johnson, and I look forward to reading what she writes.