 (Reprinted with permission from the Daily News and George) When my aunt Marian was in fourth grade in 1905, her teacher assigned the students topics to report monthly to the class. Marian was the oldest of three children. Her mother, a single parent, scrubbed floors in downtown offices at night and took in washing and ironing in the daytime. Marian, in poverty, was dressed in flour sack clothes. When she reported to the class, the students surreptitiously made fun of her. After two or so times, she said she wasn’t ready to give another report. Her teacher saw what was happening and took her aside and said: “Why don’t you see me after school. You don’t have to go before the class again.” Marian was so thankful for her kindness and compassion that she was inspired to become a teacher. When Marian was a senior in high school, her mother was diagnosed with cancer and couldn’t work. Marian found two part-time jobs so Aunt Ruth and my dad wouldn’t be placed in orphanages and mother in the poor house. Her mother died when Marian was in her second year of normal school. After graduation Marian taught in the Chicago public school system. In 1932 my dad lost his job and moved in with Marian and her husband. During that time students would come over after school and sometimes stay for supper. Almost always on Saturday’s students could come and stay for lunch. During summer it was common for them to come and visit her. One time she took a group on a picnic. Marian retired at age 65 in 1960 and moved to Lake Hubert, about 15 miles north of Brainerd. For 23 years she served the area in many ways, including teaching residents of the Brainerd State Hospital two or three days a week to read and write. At age 88 she was diagnosed with macular degeneration and could no longer driver or live alone. When she left Brainerd, the Brainerd Dispatch headline read “Incredible 88-year-old.” Most, if not all, of the front page was about Marian. I took her to Wisconsin to live with my mother and she died at age 98 in 1993. I was her administrator and she wanted her memorial service in the Lake Hubert area. She was gone 10 years. I thought, who will attend? The church was full. I read a letter from one of her students who went into the ministry. He wrote of the impact she had on his life. I had a very difficult time getting though it and there were many handkerchiefs drawn in the audience. s I went through her belongings I found she was corresponding, with help from my mother, with 65 of her former students. Who was the ‘power of one’ ? I say she was Marian’s fourth-grade teacher. Acts of kindness, compassion, respect, etc. can inspire us to do wonderful things. When I moved Marian, she told me one of her greatest regrets was that she never thanked her teacher for her kindness and the impact she had on her. Each and every one of us has the potential to be the ‘power of one’ in someone’s life. Acts of kindness, compassion and respect can be inspiring and perhaps be a ‘power of one.’
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