Just yesterday morning they let me know you were gone

Jennifer taught art across the hall from my classroom. She had the messiest classroom ever. Borderline hoarder, but an infinite number of still life compositions waiting to happen.

She was the perfect combination of tough and tender, rigid and flexible, but honest and caring. What she did so well was to bring out the artist in people who didn’t know they were artists. And she made them realize how good they could be with a little extra effort. She pushed to make them better and often got some push-back until they realized that good enough wasn’t the best you could be, and with extra effort you just might be great. And that’s what a good teacher does.

She went one step further. Many of her students thought of her as a “second mom”. More than one of her students moved in with her family when their own families were falling apart. She probably saved some lives.

When she and her family moved 200 miles away, her home became a destination for a celebration ever New Year’s Eve for over 20 years. Good times, good food, fireworks, , friends, and fun. I drove there in four different vehicles over that time.

Her lung cancer diagnosis was a surprise. She never smoked, but who knows what fumes you inhale teaching art for 40 years. But the cancer was treated and the treatment was successful. Months later, other health problems arose, and when the cancer came back, it won. I miss her.