About a Former Teacher

Bonners Ferry UMC

I went to Junior High in a small town in northern Idaho. There were maybe three thousand people in the whole town. At the time, my dad was a preacher at the local United Methodist Church. It, like the town, was small. In that small church, there was a Junior High School ministry. I don't remember the exact number of kids in that ministry, but ten would be too many and three would be too small. Pick a number between those two numbers that gives you comfort, and we'll go with that.

The ministry was run by Mrs. Carpenter (I don't remember her first name). Her husband was a carpenter named Carpenter. That's the sort of thing you can't write in a novel without people rolling their eyes. But it's the sort of thing that happens in life, and that makes me like life just a little bit more.

Mrs. Carpenter taught our class nearly every week, and I attended nearly every week. I don't remember a single one of her lessons. Sorry Mrs. C. This makes me feel especially bad as a guy who taught Middle School Ministries at my church for a few years. I mean, what's the point if in twenty three years, they won't remember my finely crafted lessons? Why bother teaching?

But I do remember some things. Here's what I remember:

I remember how she looked at her husband. I remember the look of love and respect, and I said to myself that I want that someday.

I remember how he treated her. Like she was the most important person in any room. And I said to myself that I would treat my wife like that someday.

I remember her telling me that her husband woke up early everyday so he could spend time in prayer. Waking up early sounded respectable, but a little crazy.

I remember playing Trivial Pursuit and answering the question, "What is the city of lights?" with, "Las Vegas." It made everyone laugh. I still think Las Vegas should be the answer instead of Paris.

I remember her telling me that I had a nice smile immediately after all that laughter. For a quiet kid who didn't smile much, that was a nice thing to hear. It made me feel warm on the inside.

I remember going to Roman Nose Lake with the group, and her two year old ditching all her clothes and running around tiny buns to the wind. I averted my eyes, as was proper.

Roman Nose Lake near Bonners Ferry

As lessons and chalkboards and classroom time faded from memory, those things stuck with me. It was the character of the teacher, her willingness to open her home and her heart, that stuck with me. Mrs. Carpenter made an impact on me not by what she said, but by who she was.

To Mrs. Carpenter: Thanks. Thanks for being the kind of woman who would spend time with smelling junior highers. Thanks for making us smile. Thanks for the memories.