Fifty years ago , Ed and I had just moved into 615 Blanchard Pkwy and I had started my new teaching job at the Deal and I had stared my new teaching job at the Deal School.  The Deal School was totally different from any school that I had taught at previously.  And I was very nervous and insecure even though I had 8 years of teaching .  But this time my student body was wealthy and smart. And the teachers were carefully evaluated.  That should not have concerned me because my record was stellar.  Nonetheless it was a new environment and I prayed that I would be up to the task.  It was about 1:00, right after lunch when the principal walked into the classroom.  All thoughts raced through my mind–what had I done wrong  did I look alright, I was ready for whatever to correct whatever i was at fault with.  He went directly to the front of the class and standing next to me in a deliberate and somber voice, he told the children that the president had been shot.  What  what president.  We had just been watching him during lunch hour riding in the open car down the streets of Dallas.  Some children shouted “NO  Can t be true , others put their heads down and stated to shake and cry.  I lost my bearing and collapsed into my chair behind the desk and wept.  The days that followed were even more unbelievable.  November 22 is one of the days etched in my memory that I will never forget or exactly where I was.  I wish I knew where the children of that fourth grade class are now so that we could remember together.  

 

 

 

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