By Nancy Patrick

Isn’t it amazing how our views of birthdays change as we climb (or limp) up the age ladder? In childhood, I remember thinking that if my parents hadn’t waited three years to have me, I could match the ages of my older cousins. Then in adolescence, I counted days waiting for important birthdays: at fourteen I could get my driver’s license after taking driver’s education; at sixteen, I could date; at eighteen, I would graduate from high school; and finally, I would marry and have a family. Everything I wanted resided in the future.

This anticipation continued for a few decades as my life progressed through various stages. By twenty-one, I had graduated from college and obtained my teaching certificate. By twenty-four, I had put Mike through seminary and had three years of teaching experience under my belt as l looked forward to the birth of our first and only child, Jason.

I absolutely loved being a young adult. I felt vigorous and strong with boundless energy. Mike’s first pastorate, Bethel Baptist Church in the little town of Princeton, Illinois, had a population of about 7,000 people—small enough for me to easily negotiate anywhere I wanted to go with my child seat attached to the back of my bike for Jason’s fun and comfort.

The two of us rode all over that little town. I put Sunday school quarterlies on my basket and delivered them to church members who needed them. We went to the little strip shopping centers to purchase incidentals. Princeton even had a Gibson’s store back then—just like the one we had in Abilene.

My birthdays continued happily every year throughout my twenties, thirties, and forties. During those decades, I accomplished several goals and felt as if my birthdays served as goal posts in my career and family. 

Mike and I celebrated our Silver Anniversary, Jason grew up and became a good man, providing us our granddaughter Hannah, and Mike and I neared the last working decades of our lives. Teachers typically worked until what we termed “retirement” age, the age at which we had earned our full pension benefits. For me, that was age fifty-four—a young age for retirement when you consider that most professionals work until their sixty-fifth birthday. At some point, my anticipation of birthdays waned—probably when I received my invitation to AARP on my fiftieth birthday. I suddenly felt that society saw me differently. I had become a senior citizen. Whether rightly or wrongly, my self-image began shifting from that of a youthful, energetic, ageless woman to that of a mature, tired, and aging one.

My view of myself and my age had a negative impact on my lifestyle. I began second guessing my choices in clothing, make-up, and choice of activities. More importantly, I began questioning whether or not my career as a teacher had made a contribution to my students’ lives. After all, during close to forty years in the classroom, I had taught thousands of young people. How many even remembered me? Did they have happy memories? Angry or bitter memories? Thankful memories or no memories of me at all?

My husband Mike has always been very thoughtful about my fluctuating feelings regarding the transitions in my life. Each decade gave me pause to consider my goals and evaluate my performance. He has always encouraged me to consider my worth in my being rather than my doing. Even so, he knows how much my teaching career meant to me.

I felt “called” to teach. I never thought of teaching as a mere job but as something God actually called me to do and gifted me with the personality and spirit to love and nurture my students. I hope most of them realized that about me although I know some never allowed me to penetrate their shells.

I have now been retired from teaching for almost a decade, so I haven’t had personal contact with any of my students for a long time. Mike seemed to sense my lackluster mood lately, so he began scheming something to lift my spirits. 

He knows that I have maintained contact with several of my past students. Some have connected with me through Facebook while many continue to live and work in Abilene.

During my tenure at Abilene High School from 1990-2004, I taught many amazing students. I have watched them grow from adolescents to young adults and now to middle aged adults with their own families.

This January 21, Mike announced that he would take me to Abuelos for lunch, adding, “I’ve invited another couple to eat with us, but don’t ask who because it is a surprise.” Okay, well. I began a mental list of several married couples in our circle of friends, but I didn’t come close to guessing the correct names.

When we arrived at Abuelos, I was greeted by two of the sweetest women I ever taught. Sara and Leila had responded to Mike’s unusual invitation to celebrate my birthday with me. These women had graduated from Abilene High in 2000, so we had a lovely time of catching up over our lunches.

Although I’m not a big fan of birthday celebrations, I confess that this birthday ranked as one of the best I have had. Realizing that these young women took time out of their busy lives to spend a lunch hour with me made me remember why I loved being a teacher.    

Nancy Patrick is a retired teacher who lives in Abilene and enjoys writing