The Teacher's Daughter

Ever since one of my favorite teachers passed away, just shy of two years ago, I've had this recurring dream. Well not exactly a specific dream... more of a recurring dream theme. In these dreams, I'd be talking to my band teacher just before he went onstage for a concert with his students. (I'm an adult in these dreams... not back in high school.) There was nothing specific in our conversations, just idle chit-chat. Initially, I'd have the dream and wake up in a confused state... realizing only after regaining consciousness that he was dead. As time passed, the confused state was part of the dream. Kind of "Wait a minute. I can't be talking to you. You're not here." Yet the conversation would continue. As additional time passed, he became more and more ghost-like in the dreams.

A month or two ago, the theme changed a bit. I was backstage in the high school gymnasium. The school band was assembled to play a memorial concert for my band teacher. I kind of expected his ghost to appear, but it didn't happen. What I did see though, was his daughter, front and center in the audience. I knew his daughter fairly well, which makes sense, considering that we'd been classmates since seventh grade. When I woke up, I understood that I had to get in touch with the teacher's daughter... to let her know that I missed her dad.

Then I did something I thought I'd never do. I got a Facebook account. She was the first person I looked up, and I found her almost instantly. I told her about my dreams, and how much her dad meant to me. My mission was fulfilled.

After graduating high school, I never looked back. I kept in touch with a few select people, my band teacher being one of them, but for the most part, I went my own way. I didn't attend high school reunions because with a very few exceptions, I didn't want anything to do with most of the preppie, plastic people that were my classmates.

Recently though, that mindset has changed. (And when I say recently, I mean within the last year or so.) I've come to understand that I'm not the same punk kid I was in school, so my long-ignored class peers have probably changed as well... most of them anyway. With the creation of my Facebook account, providence is kicking in, and I've started hearing from some of the people from my childhood. For the most part, the people I'm hearing from are the ones I never really considered "plastic" in the first place; they're the ones who would cross my mind from time to time. And I'm finding myself surprised with how large this number of people is. As for those that I did consider artificial and superficial? Like I said, I've changed, so who am I to assume that they're the same.

I've digressed big-time though. I heard back from the teacher's daughter today. Here's a lightly edited excerpt of what she had to say...

I cried and cried...I continue to read what you wrote about my dad daily. I know that sounds weird but it was soooo nice of you to write the kind words that you did. It will be 2 years that Dad has been gone and I still can't believe it. It's like a bad dream...I will eventually wake up and my life will continue as it was when he was alive. I ask myself daily why God took him so early. My kids and [brother] and [sister]'s kids were robbed as far as I'm concerned..they were cheated on really getting to know such a wonderful man that they called "Pop." It was so nice to hear from you. I can't thank you enough for taking the time to write what you did. I hope you don't mind but I was with my mom and sister last week and read what you wrote to them...they were both speechless. I have to say thank you again. You will never know what that email meant to me.

I'm a big believer in providence. In retrospect, I guess the dreams were leading me to get in touch with the teacher's daughter the whole time. Doing so, in turn, showed me that my new mindset about my old classmates is proving itself true. Like me, they are not the same people they were as teenagers.

Furthermore, I've come to realize that I was an idiot. I had this big chip on my shoulder about my high school years, and my peers, and I had this chip for no reason. I wasn't really an outcast. And I never had a problem with the vast majority of them. In fact, as I re-think old assumptions and recall old names and faces, I wonder how the hell I got so jaded about high school in the first place. Does this mean I'm maturing?

Either way, I haven't had the dreams since writing the teacher's daughter. I'm glad that I was able to tell someone in their family how greatly he influenced my life, and I'm specifically glad it was her that I told... since I was closer to her than anyone in the family. I'm also happy that the dreams spurred me into reaching out to... old friends.