In the very early years of the 21rt century I worked full time as a preschool teacher and was living with Debby and her three children.
Her youngest child, Ali is how Debby and I met in the first place. Just a few months before Ali was 3-years-old she was one of the children at my school while I was teaching at A Children's Place, a preschool founded by the YWCA, yes, the YWCA. The YWCA was originally founded as the Young Women's Christian Association.
Since Ali's tragic passing in January, 2014, while only in high school, I still cling to my fantastic memories. Seems like only yesterday when I watched the Power Puff girls with Ali. Listening to Oakland Athletics games on my little blue AM / FM radio while she laughed and swam in the apartment complex swimming pool with her two friends Randi and Michaela was definitely one of my favorite summer activities for two summers.
All I've got is a photograph, and I realize your not coming back...Extremely positive energy is forever in the cosmos now. Miss you Ali Bear...
Debby and I remain friends to this day, and I cannot even try to imagine the emotional pain she has to experience everyday as a mother. Ali was only in my life full time for a little over two years, from the time she was 3-5-years-old, and that little time will forever cast a permanent shadow upon my heart.
Ali's death is much more painful to me than that of my parents. My reasoning was that my parents actually lived life, they got to see all their children grow up, at least myself physically, and even some of their great grand children go to college.
When I was living with Debby in the Cedarwood apartment homes in Santa Rosa, I worked Monday-Friday, days at A Children's Place. Every Saturday morning started out the same, Ali bear climbing into our bed with her baggy pajamas and turning on the cartoon network just moments after the sun rise.
To this day, I enjoy watching the Power Puff girl cartoons. I even have a DVD which now makes me cry and laugh at the same time.
My relationship with Debby was the last time I was truly an adult, and working as a preschool teacher was fun. As you get old, like myself and you have no children and are not dating, nor have a soul-mate, people, a lot of them anyway view you as freak of nature and don't want you around their children. Sad for me, but janitorial work pays more then being a preschool teacher.
I was a lousy preschool teacher anyway. When I was teaching at A Children's Place, I was barred from the nap room because I kept falling asleep. In my defense, it was dark and the music was soft. My most wonderful sight director quickly put me in charge of the children who simple would not fall asleep. One particular time I was outside with a pleasantly spirited 4-year-old girl, Yalin who was at the time getting frequently reprimanded for hitting other child.
While I was alone with Yalin, I taught her how to make a fist, i.e., keep your thumbs outside your clinched fingers. I even taught her how to occasionally crisscross her punches; not just punch my right palm with her left hand, but use the right from time to time and vice versa. I even showed her how to step into her punches. About a week or so later, Yalin got in trouble for hitting again and one of the other teachers said;
"Someone taught her how to box."
I was proud that Yalin remembered my sagacious teaching skills, but my sight director was not to pleased with me. My twisted philosophy, she hits other children, so I figured, I'd teach how to hit properly.
Another reason I shouldn't teach children was my lame spelling skills. While teaching at the YWCA, each teacher alternated group circle times. One of the requirements for running circle was teaching a particular letter of the week. One week, my letter was 'K.' So I showed the children a picture of a kitten, a kite etc, and then I showed them a picture of a shopping cart which I spelled 'Kart.' I think the other teachers are still laughing at me on that one, I still laugh at myself. What can I say, as recently as 2011 I flunked beginning writing at Dixie State College, now DSU.
My most wonderful professor gave me a C plus in beginning writing which means I can now take the required English classes necessary for attaining a college degree. About three weeks before Beginning Writing was over, my professor had me meet with her in her office, and I was at a 58 percent for the class. She said, even if I aced the final there was no way I could pass the class, but since I never missed a class and turned in all my assignments on time she passed me. In two years of journalism classes at DSC, my lowest grade was a B plus and I was the only journalist for the Dixie Sun to receive the overall story of the week for a sports story.
Honestly, I have no idea where I'm going with this journalism memoir. Bottom line, I miss working with the little ones, but when your a head-case lunatic, even a harmless one such as myself, people want a married man with his own children working with their kids when your an old foggy like myself. So I went the simple route; a full time janitor whose brain is unchallenged.
Various endeavors working with children which I'll forever miss.
For more details on Ali bear you can read my previous blogs from March 16; "Always in My Heart." "Death;" January, 13, 2014 and "Farewell Ali, Revised From January 27, 2014.
