Erwin ‘76 Journal

Editor’s Note: This is a sad story, but one well told and well worth remembering. Don’t forget to send us updates on members of the class or your stores from the past.

by Dwayne Hood

I doubt that anyone remembers the first student of the Erwin Class of 76 to die. That’s because no one really had the chance to know who she was. Sadly enough, I suspect that she never really had a chance to know who she was.

Her name was Jan Jackson and she was in my first grade class taught by Ms. Schwartz.

She was a small, pale girl in pink clothes who sat in the row next to me but didn’t say much. And then one day she stopped coming to school. Ms. Schwartz called her name on the roll every day but there was no answer. Finally she stopped calling her name.

Many people may not remember this, but when we started school, prayer was allowed in the classroom. Ms. Schwartz would have us start the day with the Pledge of Allegiance and then a prayer (I think it was the Lord’s Prayer.)

Then we went about the chores of learning.

One morning we crowded into class to start our day to find Ms. Schwartz with a large get well card. She told us that Jan Jackson was sick and would be learning along with us from her home until she could come back to school. Ms. Schwartz said Jan had something called cancer and she wanted us to sign a card so she would feel better. We all took turns signing our names. (I remember thinking that Jan had been gone for so long that her mother would have to write a really long note to get her back in school.)

We then said the Pledge of Allegiance and the Lord’s Prayer. But at the end of the prayer Ms. Schwartz continued in a slow, quiet voice that asked God to take the cancer from Jan and help her get well so she could return to school with us. I remember gently cracking open one eye to look at Ms. Schwartz. (Did you ever peep during a prayer? I did it at First Baptist Church all of the time.) Ms. Schwartz had a pained expression on her face that even a child would not question. This was serious.

We never heard another word about Jan Jackson until the first day of class in the second grade. Our teacher, Ms. Enlow, called out her name on the roll and a student told her that Jan was sick and learning from home. Ms. Enlow never called her name again. Finally, Open House night arrived and our work was displayed all over the walls and room for our proud parents’ approval.

I remember bringing my mom and dad to the school and being on my best behavior as they met Ms. Enlow and surveyed the little world where I spent my days learning how to be smart. We then went around the wall of the room to look at our art work. I could never draw and was embarrassed by my efforts but my mother acted like my picture of a car was drawn by Rembrandt or Picasso. As she bragged to my dad about my picture, I glanced at the drawing next to mine and saw a picture of a small flower. Underneath the flower, in a shaky scrawl, I saw the name Jan Jackson. Jan and her parents weren’t there and I didn’t remember Ms. Enlow placing the drawing on the wall. But I thought it sad that Jan had drawn the picture and Ms. Enlow had put it on the wall but there was no one there to see it.

We then went on to the third grade and Ms. Word was our teacher. It was December and we were preparing for our big Christmas party before the holiday break. We had our little artificial Christmas tree, candy canes and presents to exchange along with punch and cupcakes and other holiday trappings. As we eagerly watched the clock crawl toward the afternoon party, Ms. Word called for a brief moment of silence for an announcement.

She told us we were going to have an important guest and she wanted us to be good for their visit. She said that we had a classmate named Jan Jackson who was sick and learning from home. Ms. Word said that Jan and her mother were coming to the Christmas party and she wanted us to be nice. She also warned us that Jan might look different and she did not want anyone to act surprised. We agreed.

The party was in full swing when Jan and her mother entered. But there was nothing that could have prepared a roomfull of third graders for what we were going to see. Jan was much smaller than what I remembered from the first grade. She was emaciated, bald and the color of chalk. It was as if all of the air had been sucked from the room as conversation came to a sudden, jarring halt. Jan’s mother held her hand and gently guided her over to a table as Jingle Bells played on a record player. Ms. Word greeted Jan and her mother warmly, served up refreshments and asked for us to welcome our guests.

Most of the kids backed away with the boys gathering around the sink on the other side of the room. But several girls, and I wish I could remember their names, gathered around Jan and greeted her as if she were their best friend. They talked quietly, giggled, nibbled on cupcakes and looked over our homemade Christmas cards. We then started to exchange gifts. Ms. Word had a present for Jan and Jan’s mother brought a gift to leave with the class.

I remember sticking with the boys on the other side of the room. I had never seen a bald headed girl. She just didn’t look right. I also remember that Jan’s mother was the saddest looking woman I had ever seen. It was a pain I had never witnessed in another person’s eyes. The rest of the party went by in a blur until we all waved and shouted goodbye as Jan and her mother left. We then rushed home for the holidays.

The school year was finally ending and we were told who our teacher would be for the fourth grade. I was going to get Ms. Glenn, the one-legged lady on crutches who was wildly popular among students. ( I later developed a school boy crush on Ms. Glenn who was the best teacher I had at Erwin.) As I asked classmates who their teacher was going to be, it occurred to me that no one had mentioned Jan Jackson. I thought it odd that she had been in my first, second and third grade classes and wondered if she would follow me to the fourth grade and get Ms. Glenn too.

As everyone was dismissed to the playground, I sidled up beside Ms. Word and quietly asked her who would be Jan Jackson’s teacher for the next year. Ms. Word stared down at me hard and blinked several times. In my tiny 8-year-old mind I could tell she was choosing her words carefully. “Well, Jan’s not with us anymore,” Ms. Word said. “Yes mam, I know that,” I replied. “But when she comes back, who will her teacher be?”

There was a pause. “Dwayne, she’s not coming back,” Ms. Word said softly. “Jan died.”

I trudged out to the playground with an empty feeling. I had only known of two people who had died before. My parents told me President Kennedy had died but he still got on TV and talked to us. And my parents said my grandmother died and went up to Heaven to live with Jesus. But I figured Jesus needed someone to keep him company and my grandmother was really old and sick anyway. I also saw people get shot and die on TV but they were always the bad guys and needed to die.

Little children weren’t supposed to die. Especially the little girl in pink who sat beside me in class. It just wasn’t fair. This was the first time I realized that horrible things can happen to good people for absolutely no reason. It also taught me that some prayers are never answered. But it’s good to say them anyway.

The sun rises and the sun sets while babies are born and other people die. There have been many times throughout the years when I have remembered back to that distant time when a school teacher could stand before her class and pray for the life of a child she hardly knew. It’s one of those memories from Erwin that will stay with me for the rest of my life.

This entry was posted on Saturday, June 9th, 2007 at 11:03 am and is filed under Obituaries. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.