Here's to you, Mr. Newby!

 I had an amazing English teacher for both 7th and 8th grade. It's little wonder that I spent much of my career teaching mostly 7th and 8th grade English.

I remember Mr. Newby's English class more than any other. We would read Hamlet in 8th grade, and it was a far, far better experience than when I was taught it again in 12th grade. In looking back, he seemed to be allowed a certain freedom to teach us whatever he chose, and it was exciting. I remember reading Jane Eyre and Waiting for Godot that 8th grade year. I think we were encouraged to do outside reading, and I believe I read those books on my own. Then we'd share our book recommendations with the class. I remember writing a poem, sharing it with Mr. Newby, and then he'd immediately insist that it be published in the yearbook. And it was. I often thought back on that as such a positive early writing experience. Those were exhilarating moments in my not always thrilling public school education in Queens, New York.

I often wanted to get in touch with Mr. Newby. I wanted him to know how he changed my life, and how I've spent all these years after Junior High School 125 teaching young minds. I'm sure I googled him a few times and came up empty. I know I've talked a lot about him and his influence with two friends from that class, and we always agreed on how great he was.

Fast forward to my husband's car accident this past July. He's doing okay but he's had a lot of PT for his shoulder and knee. His insurance agent is a man named Mr. Newby. Over these months I've mentioned that maybe he's related to my Mr. Newby. Finally, about a week ago, my husband was on the phone with him, and he asked whether he was indeed related to my Mr. Newby. My husband handed me the phone.

"I had an amazing English teacher named Mr. Newby, Thomas E. Newby, Jr. to be exact. It was Woodside, Queens. It was many, many years ago. Any chance you are related to him?"

"Yes," he said. "Thomas Edward Newby is my uncle. Yes, he was a Junior. My father also worked at that school but some 18 years later."

"Oh my goodness! He was amazing! Is he... still alive?"

"No, he died a few years ago. He was my godfather," he said. "I can't wait to tell my father that you remembered his brother so fondly."

I cried a little when I hung up the phone. I wanted Mr. Newby to know what an important influence he was on my life.

Comments

  1. As teachers we have the privilege to impact many young ones. Thanks for the reminder.

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  2. Your piece made me so happy and cry at the same time. I am glad your appreciation landed on the ears of somebody who cared.

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