A Midsummer Tragedy

I am at a loss for words today. As I'm sure you all know by this point, Mrs. Patti Apolzon, longtime first grade teacher at Woodbrook, died early this morning (technically yesterday morning at this point). I found out about this about twelve hours ago, and I'm still in shock. It's not really real to me quite yet.

Mrs. Apolzon was major part of the Old School Woodbrook. I can't tell you how happy I am to have come in on the ending years of those days. They showed us just how great a school could be. Most of you remember those times, and if you do, I don't even have to tell you what made them so special. It struck me early on that the school was very much like a family. It's a large part of what inspired me to run my classrooms like a family. It was simply a microcosm of the school as a whole. Patti quickly took me in, showed me her classroom management methods, taught me when I was a student teacher what I would need to know, and also during my first year of teaching. She was a big component of the heart of Woodbrook.

She taught fourth grade when I first arrived at Woodbrook, but it wasn't long after that when she switched to the first grade.

It was this time that she asked me if I could bring my "campfire skills" to her spring reading celebration for her reading class. We would have a little campfire, and the little first graders would hold up their hands and tell me that I taught their older brother or sister. I still remember sitting in that rocking chair.

All day today I've held conversations--pretty callously, admittedly, due to my shock--about this with people. It's amazing her impact on people. There is one parent I talked to today whose children never had her in class, but were still in a state of shock. They loved her because of how she made them feel, even if it was just in the hallway.

Thinking back, I can still hear her shrill laugh. I can hear her asking me how my mom is doing. I can hear her asking me how I've been doing and telling me about how her kids are. I can hear her asking about how her former students are doing in my class. We would tell stories about so-and-so's parents, and how much trouble they gave us. Or what a great kid another child is, and how she's not surprised that they turned out so well.

And now, she's up there in heaven with Mr. Akin, and I can picture them just like I saw them here, their arms around each other and laughing.

Everyone who knew her loved her. Everyone she knew, she loved.

That's the kind of example we all need in this world.