When I reminisce about my school days, I consider myself blessed to have been taught by many kind, Christian teachers. My Adventist education has served me well, but there’s one teacher in particular who stands out in my memory.
When I was an eighth grader at Orlando Junior Academy, I wasn’t one of the popular kids in school. In fact, I was one of the least popular kids in my class. I was interested in art, music, and reading, and wasn’t at all into sports or cars. The “cool” guys in my class called me every derogatory name in the book. And, of course, I was always picked last for any sports team during recess or P.E.
I really wanted to be part of the “in” crowd, but the harder I tried, the worse things became. For the most part, I felt unloved and alone.
Only my daily visits to the school library made my eighth grade year bearable. I had a friend there—a young librarian named Pamela Maize Harris.
Mrs. Harris made me feel important and special. When I entered the library with a dark rain cloud over my head, she pointed out the silver lining, and she always loaded me up with good books that stretched my imagination and fostered my desire to look upward. She was a good listener, and could gently point me in the right direction with a simple, well-placed question. She might have preached to me, but instead she became a confidant and friend.
I remember one hard day in particular. I was standing outside. A guy in my class crouched behind me while an accomplice gave me a shove from the front so that I sprawled backward over the first guy. My books flew in all directions, and I ended up in an embarrassing heap on the ground. In a rage, I lashed out at my aggressors. We all got in trouble with the principal.
Later that afternoon, I walked into the library, shoulders sagging low. Mrs. Harris was waiting with a sympathetic ear.
“I hear you’ve had a rough day,” she offered.
“Yeah,” I let out a heavy sigh. “Why do they have to be so mean?”
“Perhaps they just don’t know how much they’re hurting you,” she gently replied. “Perhaps they’re hurting inside, too. They probably think that making you feel small will make them feel big.”
She reminded me of Jesus’ words, “Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do” (Luke 23:34).
As the year drew to a close and I realized I would be going to Forest Lake Academy the following year, I started to mourn the fact that I would no longer have access to my trusted librarian. I vividly remember the day I went into the library and blurted out to her, “What am I going to do next year without you?”
She leaned forward with a twinkle in her eyes and whispered, “Can you keep a secret?”
“Sure I can. What?”
“Well, I’ve just accepted a position to teach freshman and sophomore English at Forest Lake Academy!” she triumphantly shared. “We’ll both be freshmen next year!”
I was elated! Suddenly, the idea of going to academy was no longer quite so daunting.
Sure enough, Mrs. Harris was waiting for me in her classroom at Forest Lake Academy the next fall. She made learning prepositions and participles fun and challenging, but more importantly, she mentored me in creative pursuits that would one day pave the way for my career. Somewhere along the way, I learned to like myself. And others started liking me too.
After graduating from Forest Lake Academy, I went on to Southern College (now Southern Adventist University). I was pleased to learn that Mrs. Harris and her family would be moving to Southern so she could teach in the English department while working on her doctorate.
Providence made it possible for my librarian, teacher, mentor, and friend to be a consistent, positive role model during my formative years. I will always be grateful that she looked past the awkward, lanky, unloved kid who hung out in the library at Orlando Junior Academy to see a diamond in the rough.
Today, “Dr. Harris” is a professor and coordinator of the graduate program in the Department of Communication at Andrews University, where she is described as a person who “has a passion for the power of communication to change people’s lives” and “is a cheerful, helpful lady that reaches high, and then reaches higher.” Clearly, she has continued her legacy of encouraging students to look upward for creative inspiration.
I’m certain the Lake Union Conference is blessed by the contributions of many great teachers. But I can personally testify how one of them has blessed my life!
Mark Bond owns a graphic design firm, and is the head elder of his church. In his "spare time," he's a volunteer fireman and EMT. He live with his wife and four children in Swan Valley, Montana. Mark designs the Lake Union Herald each month, and dreams of one day earning his master's in communication under the direction of Professor Harris.
