Let me tell you about one of my favorite humans, Joe Beard.
I’m unfortunately one of those teachers who has difficulty with work/life balance. When other more healthy teachers jet off to gyms, happy hour plans, or children, I’m usually in my slippers slippin’ around my classroom hoping to make enough noise to keep the nocturnal mice away. I’ve gotten much, much better than my first few years when I was known to leave school at the same time some people were leaving bars. Once, a former division head described me as someone who “burns a candle at both ends.”
Even though I’ve upped my social life and have reluctantly allowed some of my extracurricular school activities to be pried from my stone cold fists, I still have my occasional late nights. And they aren’t awful thanks to the night security guard Joe Beard.
You see, after my 8th period students shuffle or sashay out of my classroom, Joe will usually pop his head in to see how my day was and if I was staying late. If I was staying late, Joe would find ways to brighten my evening through frequent check ins, grabbing a seat in one of my big blue chairs, and telling jokes or making fun of me (with love of course). He’d keep me company while I graded quizzes or made lesson plans.
Sometimes Joe doesn’t catch me before I leave my classroom to do my usual 15-25 minute “hallway roam,” where I aimlessly walk the hallways talking to kids or waving at teacher friends in their classrooms. I’m a bit like one of those puppies who spins around and around before she finally feels comfortable and settles down. On those days, I’d often find Joe outside my classroom upon my return scolding me for not locking my door and having students sneak in my room to hang out. He was always worried about my valuables getting stolen, and he was always concerned with my safety and happiness. He did the same for the students who sought respite in my classroom.
If we are lucky, we will all have a Joe in our lives, a person who goes out of his or her way to be a constant flicker of light on not just our thunderstorm days, but also on those days where the added sunshine makes our beautiful days even more technicolor. And sometimes, if you are like me, you’ll take that light for granted, and you won’t realize how much energy you were getting from it until something snuffs out the light.
Joe suddenly passed away peacefully in his sleep on July 3rd, 2017. I found out from a former student, and the clouds rolled in and scrubbed the sheen from my summer. During his funeral, I sat next to one of my former students, and as life amateurs, neither of us had tissues. After a while, we gave up trying to stop our mascara from making black diamond ski trails down our cheeks until finally someone rescued us with some toilet paper. I spent the rest of the summer dreading returning to school as I’ve not felt ready to feel the emptiness of Joe’s absence.
Pictures of Joe from the cover of his memorial program.
So in this turbulent time where the heat of hate is radiating from marches in Charlottesville and around the country, I will make sure that love blazes brighter. In this way, I’ll make sure that Joseph Kenneth Beard will shine on.
I hope you will do the same in honor of the Joe in your life as well. In the thick of these whitewashed storms funneling in, we will all need the light in the darkness.
Let’s all buckle down and get our flashlights out, as our lights aren’t going anywhere. We will radiate love, respect, and empathy. Come what may, we must remember that Hope Dies Last.
To Joe.
You arrive at the airport 1.5 – 2 hours before your flight. If you are lucky enough that you don’t need to check any bags, you go directly to the eticket booth, print out your boarding pass and head to the security lines. You’ve passed GO, collect $200.
Ms. Stovall 313 