When I opened my mailbox the other day, I could hardly believe my eyes. There was a letter from Mrs. Pearl Focken, my first teacher – ever. She had seen an article in one of the local Nebraska papers about my returning to Clatonia to lead a workshop. “I know this girl!” she said to herself. “I taught her when she just started going to school.” Pearl Focken was my awesome first ever teacher when I began my educational journey in a one-room schoolhouse in District 50. Over the years, my memory of Mrs. Focken has remained vivid and alive. She was an attractive, well-dressed woman who even wore heels in that tiny school out on the prairie in the middle of nowhere. She was a delightful, gifted teacher who launched me in the world of education in a positive way.

I remember being one of ten students in eight grades in that little school. Because I was very tall for my age, I was placed in a desk close to the back of the room. From that vantage point, I could easily watch as Mrs. Focken taught the older students and prepared them for their upcoming high school entrance exams. Perhaps if you had seen me in that drafty, poorly equipped schoolhouse, completely lacking a library or any audio-visual equipment, you might have thought of me as “culturally deprived.” But I had some great experiences in that little schoolhouse, and I learned a lot about life there.

Now as I look back at my life in that one room schoolhouse, I am in awe of the courage that teachers like Mrs. Focken must have had. Out in the middle of the Nebraska plains with students bigger than she was, Mrs. Focken cranked up the oil burner, fought off rattle snakes, broke the ice off the wash basin, prepared lessons for eight grades, and took off her heels to play touch football with the rest of us. After all, there weren’t enough students for two teams.

One of my clear memories from those days is playing softball – with the entire student body, of course. I seem to remember being in the outfield quite a bit. Perhaps it had something to do with my being a daydreamer. I confess I was easily distracted by such things as dandelions and loved making dandelion chains. I found I was a bit irritated when someone yelled at me, “Joy, watch out. Here comes the ball.” “Where? What?” was my usual response.

What a gift Mrs. Pearl Focken gave me when she contacted me after all those years. She helped me remember my special days in that one-room schoolhouse out on the prairie. Perhaps you didn’t go to a one-room schoolhouse in the middle of nowhere, but I hope you too are reminded of pleasant memories and special people from your childhood and that you will give thanks for them.

Creator, there is much to be grateful for. So many memories, so many experiences, so much happiness. And yet we are often discontented and disconnected from the joys of this life. Forgive us for that. Open our hearts and our minds to the many gifts you give us. And thank you for the gift of Pearl Focken – a real gem of a teacher. Amen.

Joy Carol
www.joycarol.com