I’ve been a teacher for 27 years. I’ve been a teacher for longer than I was not. From my very first year until now, I have worked alongside brilliant, beloved educators. People who teach with love, compassion, grace, holding their students to the highest standards whilst simultaneously lifting and motivating them each day to achieve success both in school and out. While many of these teachers have been in core subjects—English, math, social studies, and the sciences—very often those who make the biggest difference in the lives of young people are the ones involved in ancillary subjects or activities—theater, music, clubs, coaches, and librarians. When students get involved in activities beyond just general coursework, the opportunity to make deep and lasting connections with the adult in charge grows exponentially. I have witnessed this firsthand, and it has moved me to tears on several occasions.

Most recently, with the case of my husband’s “aunt” Pat. During her teaching career, Patricia Black served as a librarian in the Riverview School district for 40 years. Though I never had the pleasure of seeing Aunt Pat or Ms. Black in her role as educator, only meeting her after she had already been retired for several years, I instantly recognized the impact she had on many of her students, including my husband and his friends, through the stories they told and just getting to know her. Teachers love chatting with other teachers. We are a tribe—a family of distant cousins who have shared experiences, ideas. Aunt Pat and I would sit for hours chatting about my school life, and she would tell me about her teaching days and stories of former students. These were not old tales about when she knew them as junior high or high school students; she would talk about companies they owned, business they ran, school districts where they taught, and other amazing things they were up to. Let me be clear, I have many former students who I generally keep in touch with on Facebook. They share their stories of success to the social media world, and I cheer them on from the sidelines, reminding them how much I love seeing them grow into their adult-selves—watching as they get advanced degrees or married or start a new job or become parents or some other brilliant thing they are up to. I will always cherish the opportunity to see these moments revealed. And deep down, I know there are some former students I would drop everything for if they needed me, not that any have ever asked this of me. But no matter how awesome this connection to my former students may be, it could never, ever rival those of Aunt Pat’s.

Ms. Black had many former students with whom she spoke on a daily, weekly, or monthly basis. Her impact was so genuine, sincere, and deep that it continued long after high school graduation, and much more so than a comment or two on Facebook, much to her credit, I’m pretty sure she didn’t even have a Facebook page. Students reached out to her, long after she saw them each day at school, when they needed her—asking for advice, sharing their stories, generally keeping her near to them. And equally, she kept in touch with them, doing the same, but more importantly, letting them know that she would always been there for them. These same people rallied around Aunt Pat, sitting bedside for two months when she lost the ability to walk, and we learned that her cancer had spread throughout her body. Some flew in internationally, some drove for more than an hour, some gave time away from their own families to be with her. And when, because of Covid, only two people were allowed in to see her at hospice care, they talked in a group chat daily about her condition.

Patricia Black died in her sleep yesterday, and after he contacted her three brothers, my husband immediately let this group know of her passing. Beyond them will most likely be scores of others who will fondly remember something she did for them or said to them which had a lasting impact. This is what it is to be an educator. It may be something you’ve taught them in the classroom, but more often, it is an indelible moment that becomes your legacy in that person’s mind. I will be forever grateful for the chance to know Aunt Pat these past eight years, and I will miss our talks. I will forever be in awe of her connection with her students and remind myself of one teacher’s incredible capacity to touch the lives of so many.