Angels Among Us

People come and go in our lives, but there are a select few who end up having the biggest influence in our lives. Often these influences, heroes, angels disguised as ordinary people do not know the impact they have on us. The person who inspired me most was my sixth grade teacher Mrs. Roush. She not only taught grades five and six, but she was the principal too. Because the school was small, each teacher had to instruct two grades at the same time. The school sat in a small, southern Ohio town called Racine. The school was reminiscent of the past with coal as its heat source. The students in grades five and six worked in the cafeteria to help serve food. We washed dishes while listening to the cook talk as she sat on a small stool and knitted. Her rainbow colored yarn draped over her legs and was neatly piled in a round, wooden basket. The smiles Mrs. Roush gave through her bright, red lipstick made us believe as though she was the happiest person in the world. Mrs. Roush was a tall, thin woman who usually came to class chewing gum. The smell of mint in the morning from the gum seemed to make the day brighter. I remember thinking how tall Mrs. Roush looked in her turtle neck sweater and pencil skirt, I bet no shorter than six feet. She used to tell us stories about her family which I enjoyed very much. One story in particular was the one about Mr. Roush having frost bite from being out in the cold. I remember the story so well because Mr. Roush had suffered a disability from the frostbite. The times I spent in class with Mrs. Roush made me feel as though I did not have a care in the world. Little did I know at the time that my teacher would end up being my biggest inspiration.
Mrs. Roush was the first person in my life who made me believe that I could be something when I grew up. I was verbally, physically, sexually, and emotionally abused by my parents, and so you can imagine my surprise when my teacher gave me hope.
That day in class she gave us all a speech about how we could go to college and be anything we wanted to be. She went around the room asking each one of us what we wanted to be when we grew up.

I remember almost every single response from each person and when it was my turn to respond I said, “I want to be a teacher.”

From that day forward my new goal was to get into college and be a teacher as great as Mrs. Roush. I finished up my sixth grade year and my family moved once again where I had to start another new school.
My seventh grade year, about halfway through the academic year, I was pulled out of school illegally by my parents with no hope of ever getting an education. I was hidden away from the world, and my life looked dismal.

Mrs. Roush’s words’ stuck in my head that, “You can go to college and be anything you want to be.”

The only thing I was able to do besides clean, cook, and care for the family was read. I read the only book I had and that was a dictionary. I never saw anyone including doctors for about a decade. About two months before I turned 17, my mother had her boyfriend drive me over 200 miles and throw me out of the car in Alliance, Ohio. Even though I was not animal, I felt like one when I was thrown out on the city streets to fend for myself at sixteen with nothing except what I could carry. I had no money, no food, no education, and no hope. I worked some odd jobs to try and improve my life until an aunt found me and took me to live with her. I worked more jobs to buy a car so I could find better work. I started working on my G.E.D. when I was 17, but I was young and thought I knew everything. I had no one to tell me what my priorities should be, but that was another hard lesson I learned on my own. I finally found stable work and got my own place; however, the teacher’s speech was in my head still. Although the words ran through my mind daily, I was not ready to commit to working hard at achieving that goal yet. I had a lot more maturing to do before I was ready to make a better life for my family and myself.

Before I knew it I was 18, married, and having children. I never had any guidance as to what I should do in life or anything like that. At this point I basically had no education and no morals because I was never taught anything. I was not even sure if I knew right from wrong at that point. After I had my first son I knew I had to make changes, but it was not until I had my last child that I finally went back to earn my G.E.D. I still had a long way to go to be successful in anything. After earning my diploma in 2001 I went to an online college to earn a certificate in computer repair. Doing schooling online was best for me because of my severe social anxiety from being locked away for so long and not knowing how to deal with the public. After that I started a degree in Computer Science online. I saved my money and bought a house with cash. I worked hard to repair the house, but then I had to move my ailing mother, the same mother who abused me all those years, and niece in my house to care for them too. Because I had moved more people in, I had to put my education on hold once again.

A few years later my home burned and we had to move. I decided at that point that caring for nine people was expensive; my sister was now living with us too. I then had two more mouths to feed, clothe, and shelter. My sister’s daughter, my other niece, was with us every other weekend in the summer now too. I convinced my sister to get her G.E.D. and I then got us into nursing school. We both took the nursing entrance exam at the University of Akron, but my sister failed and so I decided to go to Brown Mackie so I could be with her and try to keep her in school. I failed at that mission though. Almost halfway through nursing my sister, mother, and I started having problems, and we argued a lot.

My middle son, who was thirteen years old at the time, overdosed because my mother told him, “You don’t have the balls to take the whole bottle.”

I was 35 years old when the realization hit that I may not have my son after that day. My whole world fell apart in front of me. He was in the intensive care unit and then hospitalized for some time around his birthday in November. While school was very hard for me, I kept going and maintained good grades. It was December of that year before I was able to get my son home. I may have missed Thanksgiving and my son’s birthday, but I was thankful to have him home for Christmas. It was at that point that I realized I failed as a parent. I had to work on what my teacher taught me so long ago, and that was that I could go to college and be anything I wanted to be.

I evicted my sister, and my mother chose to move with her. Shortly after starting back to school to get a degree in psychology, I graduated an online school with a certificate in automotive repair. I was determined to finish my associate’s degree and I finally did this past spring. I continued on here at the University of Akron to earn my bachelor’s degree in computer information systems. I can say if that teacher could see me now she would know how blessed I was that she came into my life. Thanks to her I had my own successful computer business; I am now a certified doll artist, automotive technician, computer technician, laser printer repair technician, and am working on finishing this degree program next year. I am in a school where I love my teachers and I work hard to show them how appreciative I am to them for giving me their time.

While Mrs. Roush is long gone from my life her words remain with me still. I had made contact with her once, and she was happy to hear I was doing well. I found out that Mrs. Roush is not the same 40 year old teacher I once knew, but a frail older woman who now suffers from Narcolepsy. After I finished reading the letter she sent me, I envisioned her as she was twenty-six years ago. Her beautiful, shoulder length, loosely curled, jet black hair, and large, black flat heel shoes made her seem so kind. Her pale, white skin glowed with her beautiful smile. I am not sure I could stand to see a picture of Mrs. Roush. I would probably see a much older Mrs. Roush, gray hair, lines of experience covering her face, and the smile wiped from her face like waves washing away sand on the beach. The photo would remind just how much time has passed, years that I can never get back. I am no longer that little 12 year old girl looking for a mother figure. I do not sit on the swings at the end of the day waiting for the bus and talking with Mrs. Roush’s daughter Courtney. That little school with its coal heat is no longer operating, and the playground is empty. Tears fill my eyes as I think of the days spent waiting outside with Mrs. Roush. You were right Mrs. Roush; I can go to college and be anything I want to be. I have done just that.