I usually don't write about people outside the family...at least not by name...but I had the opportunity to talk to one of my fellow church members this morning in the narthex between services, and I just need to talk about Bill Fisher.
Bill was the principal of Hall Elementary School near Monrovia, IN. I was a relatively new Indiana resident. (My then-husband had accepted a principalship in Cloverdale, just a few miles east of Hall, on country roads that almost proved the statement, "You can't get there from here.") I had spent some months and some $$ updating my coursework via Indiana State University in Terre Haute in an effort to get Indiana certification in order to teach in our new state of residence. Joe and I were going through some marriage-threatening experiences. In July of 1990, it hit me that school would be starting soon and I had no job...and would soon have no husband/support. I got busy and started applying everywhere close. It was pretty late in the process. Most jobs would already be filled.
One of my daughter's classmates had a mother who taught in the Monrovia District, of which Hall Elementary was a part. She told me that there was a 4th grade opening, so I applied. I got an interview with Mr. Fisher, and for reasons known only to God, I got the job! (The only local references were with districts for which I had substituted. I knew there were "known" people on the interview lists. I felt blessed!)
Mr. Fisher was very close to retirement. He had done-it-all in the district and was ready to enjoy some free time. New teachers on board require, by contract, a certain number of evaluations per year. That particular year, I was his only new teacher. I think he was supposed to observe me twice.
The first observation didn't go well. I had moved a student and his desk up by the blackboard (and this really WAS a blackboard--slate--and rough) for disciplinary reasons. When Mr. Fisher showed up to observe, he sat at my desk, to my right and slightly to my back. The errant student was also behind me but knew the principal was there. The whole class knew he was there. But, while I was teaching, the kid couldn't resist his temptations and pretended to stab me in the rear with a pencil. I didn't see it. Mr. Fisher did. The man came unglued! He practically climbed over my desk to get at the kid. He grabbed the student by the shoulders, yanked him out of his seat (scratching his neck in the process), and quickly escorted him to the office where he was suspended for a few days. So much for that observation. After they departed in a whirlwind, the rest of my class was very quiet. One young'un asked, almost in a whisper, "Ms. McNary, don't you think that was a bit harsh?" Yeah, it probably was. But you know what? I felt vindicated and supported. That counts for a lot.
The next observation had been scheduled and cancelled at least three times. Every time Mr. Fisher planned to come to my classroom, something came up to thwart it. It was becoming crunch time. I was aware that this professional evaluation was the last one he would have to make in his education career. I finally told him, "You have seen me teach. You don't have to be in my classroom to validate your opinions about my abilities. Write a fair evaluation, and I will sign it." He did...and I did. Then he retired.
End of story. Or is it? Mr. Fisher's son, Jeff, was also a teacher in the district, and Jeff's wife, Wilma, was a secretary. They were good people. Jeff was a bit of a renegade...nothing like his father...but a good guy. In time, both Jeff and Wilma became victims of politics in the district and were eased out. Jeff retired to his farm, and Wilma went on to work as a manager at Walmart here in Plainfield. She was a little slip of a woman. I ran into her often there. And Jeff's father and mother moved into a free-standing condo just down the road from me. God bless Bill...he showed up on my doorstep one day just after my return home after the brain aneurysm. I looked awful, but I think he understood!
Somewhere along the way, Jeff had a stroke. He walked and talked like a drunken man, but he held on. Then, one day, Wilma had a massive heart attack. For a month, she was kept on life support while her body just slipped away...and finally, they pulled the plug.
Thanks to Mr. Fisher, I had Jeff's phone number. We talked quite a few times about Wilma. When the awful time came, he was okay with it. We were planning a trip to have lunch with another retired teacher but were waiting for the right time. And then, out of nowhere, Jeff died. I think it was his heart. I had already provided a prayer blanket for Bill and his wife through our church, knowing how much they worried about their son after Wilma's death. When I handed it to him, he just cried. I cried with him. Then Jeff died. What to do??
Jeff's memorial service was scheduled for a time when I could not attend. We had to be on our way to Illinois for a 50th Anniversary celebration for my sister and brother-in-law--something that had been planned for many months. Still, I wrote a eulogy about Jeff and delivered it to his father's house, hoping that someone would read it in my stead at the service. (Delivering that silly eulogy was more complicated than I am making it sound, but it happened.) The minister got it and read it. And thereafter, Bill Fisher and wife said it was right on target about their son. They asked me for a copy because the minister had kept the one I had provided. Since I hadn't been there, I felt better.
Which brings me back to today. In the narthex at church, Bill mentioned that another school year was drawing to a close. I mentioned that this year's graduates are the last of the kids I would know. He confessed that he didn't miss Commencement exercises and hadn't known the graduates for years. Then he talked about the kid in my class so many years ago that pretended to stab me in the rear with a pencil. I wasn't sure he remembered!!
Bill Fisher is well into his 80s. Has been retired since 1991, although I think he stood in as an interim superintendent in our district for awhile. He doesn't look any different today than he did so many years ago! I know he doesn't do computers, so he will never see this. I haven't said anything I haven't already said to him, but I am eternally grateful to him for taking a chance on me. My years in the Monroe-Gregg District were not all easy, but had he not hired me in the first place, I'm not sure where I would be now.
God Bless Bill Fisher, forever.
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