Mrs. Irons

Doris Irons was my first grade teacher.  She was fantastic, and sadly this weekend she passed away from cancer.

I had the pleasure of having several wonderful teachers, but Mrs. Irons set the bar pretty high.  I still remember the first day of first grade, and walking down the hallway in Southwest Elementary.  Mrs. Irons room was one of the first rooms on the left.  I remember ISTEP testing and the snack fairy, her reading to us Clifford The Big Red Dog books after lunch, Columbus Day when we made boats out of straws and milk cartons, and our own Whoville that stretched over the majority of the floor.

I remember having to write my name on the board, and being terribly upset about it.  I had forgotten to bring something in for Show and Tell, and that was my consequence.  I am pretty sure I cried,  I am positive that she was kind and compassionate about it.  I remember her in jewel tones, always wearing purples, teals and pinks.

My dad enjoys telling stories, especially about his kids.  One of his favorites includes me and Mrs. Irons.  I don't remember what we were talking about, but my response was, "You're killing me Irons, you're killing me." This was a take off of a line from The Sandlot.  Mrs. Irons told my parents the story the next Sunday at church.  That happened 18 years ago, and I have still yet to live it down.

In the spring of first grade my grandmother passed away.  Mrs. Irons called me up to the side of her desk and handed me a card.  My mom helped me read it after school.  The card said she loved me, was sorry that I was sad, but that I would see my grandmother some day again in heaven.  I saved that card for a very long time.

I never saw Mrs. Irons after she got sick.  But whenever I came home from Tennessee I would usually see her at church when she was leaving first service and I was walking into second service.  She would always stop me, give me a hug, ask how I was and tell me she was proud of me.    I know that I am only one of hundreds of lives that she touched, but I am so thankful to be included among them.

My prayers are with her wonderful husband, kids and grandchildren.  I hope they can take comfort in the same message she gave to me.  I am so sorry they are sad, but take hope in that they will see her again.