I had gone to bed Thursday night without any Internet service. It went away without warning, as computer problems are wont to do. It had worked fine all day and that evening before I got the dreaded message box about the Internet being unavailable to load. It advised me to unplug and replug the router, punch the reset button, check all connections, run the diagnostics, blah blah blah, and if all that failed, to call my Internet provider.
I wasn’t looking forward to dealing with that the next day because I am always unsure I am doing what they tell me to do correctly and getting things back up and running easily, or waiting on someone to come to the house if a house call was in order. Bill happened to be out of town, so I didn’t have him to fall back on in case I didn’t understand what to do. So Friday morning I was up early to take the dogs on their morning walk around the golf course and then make the necessary calls about the Internet.
As we came back to the house, I saw a white pick-up in the drive-way and someone looking in a breaker box on the outside garage wall. The pick-up was a Five Area Telephone vehicle. I greeted the man working on the box and asked if he had come because I had no Internet. He said yes. I studied his face and saw the name David embroidered on his shirt, and said, “Is that David Lutz under that cap?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Well, bless your heart!” I responded, and went on to tell him how happy I was to see him since I don’t enjoy dealing with computer problems.
It was nice to know that Five Area and their system even knew the connection was out of whack at our house and fun that David was the person they sent to fix it.
We had a nice visit while he worked, and then he came into the house to make sure the Internet had loaded on the computer. It had, of course, because he knew his business and had the skills and knowledge to fix things.
We had another short chat before he left, and as he drove away, I thought how nice it was that they had probably unknowingly sent a former student to solve the problem. One of the perks of being a teacher, particularly a high school teacher, is that you get to see who your students grow up to be fairly soon after they leave high school. This was the first time I had seen David in many years, but he still looked enough like his younger self that I recognized him.
Sometimes young people will greet me by name when we cross paths somewhere in town, and when I look at them, I can see something familiar in that face or smile, and I know I know them, but can’t always come up with a name. They then graciously tell me their name, and the light flashes in my head. Of course I know them! A former student all grown up, and I can picture that young face sitting in a desk in the classroom. It’s always fun to see the adults they have become and the paths they have chosen in life. I run across many former students in town and appreciate it when they take the time to say something first, rather than me leaving with the nagging thought as I pass by that I knew that kid and should have said something. It’s nice to see that they are taking their places in the community and contributing in a variety of ways. Former students, way too many to try to name them all, have rescued and helped me many times in the passing years.
The students are what I miss about teaching, so thank you, former students, when you are willing to remind me of who you are, even if I don’t speak first.
And David, thanks so much for the visit and fixing this blasted Internet! I couldn’t be writing this right now without your help.
How ‘bout that?
I am impressed how fast teachers remember name. I would have them wear name tags all year.
Oh Lance! This made me laugh! But not a bad idea at all. Time has proven, unfortunately, that we do sometimes forget them, ya’ know! We may forget the names, but not the kids.