Because of Mrs. Atkinson

Published in the Idaho State Journal on February 21, 2021.

A couple weeks ago, my friend Cori from junior high sent me the sweetest note on social media. Her mom, a former teacher of mine, had been saving my columns for Cori when she stops by.  It’s been 35 years, and Mrs. Atkinson is still keeping tabs on me. What a comfort and delight. All of my wonderful teachers are on my mind in the weeks before a school district levy vote, but ever since I heard from Cori, I’ve been thinking specifically about Mrs. Atkinson.

I went to a small religious elementary school, so when I got to Hawthorne Junior High in seventh grade, I only knew a handful of kids. The sheer number of students was a shock.  A kindhearted locker partner, and the promise of sports and band kept me from despair.

My first hour class was Mrs. Atkinson’s Lifetime Sports. Being a sporty kid, I was hopeful. When I learned she was the seventh grade volleyball and basketball coach, I was ecstatic. The class focused on sports we could play throughout our lifetime: tennis, golf, pickle ball, ping pong, and bowling.  I went on to join a youth bowling league, spent hours in college playing ping pong with my digital circuits study partner, and can still hold my own on a tennis court and golf course.

During the first week in class, I was trying to chat with a classmate when a group of girls from the reservation started to tease us. We ignored them at first, but the ring leader kept interrupting me. When I’d had enough, I looked her in the eyes and yelled, “Knock it off! You’re not being very Christian!” She smirked, handed her glasses to a friend and punched me. Hard. Right in the face. 

My eyes watered without my permission while she waited for me to fight back. I didn’t. It would not have been “Christian”, and the force in her punch told me I needed to sit this one out. Mrs. Atkinson had entered the gym just in time to see the exchange. She pulled us aside individually. I saw the pain in Mrs. Atkinson’s face when she told me if either of us was reported to the principal for fighting, we couldn’t play sports.  I was incensed that the other girl wasn’t going to get in trouble, but even in week one, I trusted Mrs. Atkinson and her judgement. The other girl went on to be a basketball star; I went on to play college volleyball; and as I got to know the other girl’s friends from the reservation, they became my friends, too.

I hesitated to make many friends my seventh grade year because my dad had moved back in while he recovered from having a lung removed. He spent my seventh grade year sleeping on our couch slowly dying of lung cancer, and I didn’t want anyone to see him in his sickly state.  Mrs. Atkinson often checked in with me asking how my dad was. She was a rock.

Two years later, Mrs. Atkinson coached our ninth grade volleyball team. I was so big that none of the uniform shorts fit me, so the whole team had to get new ones. There wasn’t funding or time to get a desirable replacement, so we ended up with cheap, white shorts. Not one ninth grade girl wanted white shorts, but Mrs. Atkinson squashed any rumbling and complaints before they could arise, and she didn’t let me spend one second feeling bad about my size or the money the school had to spend.

This past year, the pandemic has presented our school district with unforeseen challenges far greater than new ninth grade volleyball shorts. The teachers aren’t just supporting one or two kids going through a trauma like losing a parent, they’re supporting all kids going through the trauma of a pandemic while simultaneously experiencing it themselves. Through my thick gratitude for every teacher, I see their exhaustion.  And despite my own exhaustion and pandemic fatigue, you can bet I’ll be at the polls voting yes in the upcoming school levy in honor of my Mrs. Atkinson and every single teacher like her.

Mrs. Atkinson didn’t plant the seeds of math or science that spawned my career. She didn’t teach me how to string words together or interpret literature. Mrs. Atkinson brought me much more. My life has been enriched by sports and competition. My friendships have flourished through forgiveness and humility, and I know the value of a team coming together in white shorts with a winning attitude for the sake of one among them. There are few people who would ever want to relive their middle school years, but I’d go back in a heartbeat because of Mrs. Atkinson.