Two Alices

Mrs. Alice Robb, my fifth grade teacher, was to me, the embodiment of my grandmother, Mrs. Alice Matteson. She looked to me, to be be very similar to my grandma, who had passed away two years earlier. I don't know if she really looked similar, or if I just missed grandma so much, I needed someone there who would fill the void, which remained since the day she left my brother's room.

My mom lovingly nursed my grandmother for six-months in our home, in my brother's tiny room. She came to live with us following her cancer diagnosis. My mom did everything for her; shots, medications, all forms of nursing, including bringing her to our bathtub, with my dad's help.

My grandma was a very large woman. I remember as a small child coming into the bathroom, and seeing my parents carefully bathing her. I wondered how they managed to get here there. Then I realized she wasn't as big. She had grown so thin, that I thought she must have been very light when they carried her to the tub. I wondered how she had become so thin. Naturally, because I was eight years old and lacking any common sense or tact, I asked why grandma was so skinny. My parents were so busy with what they were doing, and didn't know I had burst onto the scene. I was quickly shooed away, with a stern look. They were at that moment not only concerned about taking care of the business at hand, but of fiercely protecting her dignity.

I was small, but learned in that moment there are some things too private, and too sacred to be observed by anyone other than a couple of designated angels. My parents were her angels.

I learned that at times, quiet was a necessity. I knew grandma was very sick, and sick people needed rest to recover, but I had just purchased an album with my allowance. I turned up the volume. The music wafted into my grandma's ears, and she yelled out with the little bit of the strength she still had mastery over, for me to turn it up. I quickly turned it down, thinking she was being sarcastic. I knew she needed quiet and rest. I went into her room to apologize for the noise, but she said, "No. Please turn it up. I love that song." I had no idea that a song I loved so much would be something we shared. After all, she was very old...58.

Grandma passed away in that little room, and I never stopped missing her. I was in the third grade. When I entered the fifth grade, my heart recognized Mrs. Alice Robb, as someone who so closely resembled grandma. What was so remarkable to me was that she shared my grandma's name, and her vocation. Grandma Alice was also a teacher. I loved her immediately. She did however, have one major flaw. She thought it would be important for me to learn my math lessons.

During math class, I got lost in corridors in my mind. I came up with short story ideas, and began to write prolifically. One day, during the math lesson, I shared one of my stories with her. Naturally, she was impressed, as anyone would be, with a fifth-grade short story. I beamed with pride, as she gave me lavish praise on my fine work. I never expected that she would also, in the same conversation admonish me to focus on my lesson during the math period. She told me I was to stay after school that day.

Stay after school. That conjured up thoughts of meeting with the Principal and his paddle. I was in trouble. How could I be in trouble? I let her read one of my prized short stories. The sheer magic of the story should have quieted the misgivings that may have flitted though her mind of me not being able to do long division.

I obediently stayed after school.

She began by telling me how creative I was, and that I should always write. She continued with, that I need to focus on my school subjects. I confessed that long division escaped me, and I was incapable of learning it. It was not possible for someone so insignificant as me, and that was just the end of the matter.

She then began to tell me that I was capable, and that I would learn what I needed to know, before I left my after school detention that day. She told me a light would go on in my head, and that it would be like magic. Of course, I argued her point. I was stupid, and that was all there was to it. For some reason, she didn't agree with me. She persisted, and pulled out the same magic wand many teachers still employ today.

I don't remember what she said, or how she said it. I don't know how much time she spent with me that day. What I do remember, is the magic light she promised at the beginning of that session. It went on, like a blaring, white beacon of hope on a foggy night. I saw it. I understood it, and she changed my life that day. I never forgot that sacred moment. I've carried it with me, nearly fifty years later. It was a bit of magic.

Many years later, I became involved with my high school alumni association. I wrote the newsletter, and my contact information was on each publication, so alumni could get their newsletter submissions to me. I often got calls at home, or on my cell, of interesting facts, or obituaries that needed to get into the next publication. One day, I received a call while I was at work. I debated about whether I should take the call or not. I was very busy, and was starting to feel this extracurricular activity may be getting in the way of my other responsibilities.

The lady introduced herself, and mentioned the alumni newsletter. In my head I was thinking, I just don't have time right now, but I mustered all of my patience to slow down, and focus on the call. I thought, I can make time for people. I stopped the work treadmill I was on, and listened to the woman letting me know what she needed in the newsletter that was already ready for publication. I can fit in one more story. I have time. What I learned, was she was not asking anything of me. She was giving me something.

She asked if I was Carrie Dieda, and if I went to Lake View School. She said her brother had shown her a copy of one of the newsletters, with my name on it. She went on to ask if I was in Mrs. Robb's fifth grade class. She told me Mrs. Alice Robb was her mother. Not even knowing the full story, tears were already stinging my eyes.

She told me her mother had just passed away. Her health had been declining for years, due to Alzheimer's. Mrs. Robb did not remember the people she loved anymore. There was one story however that she did remember. It was of a little girl she had helped learn long division. By this time, I was at my desk at work, uncontrollably sobbing.  Across time and space, that one sacred moment was safely stored in a vault deep in our hearts that even Alzheimer's could not reach. I had believed I was insignificant, but in that moment I knew that I mattered, Especially to God, who orchestrates every event in my life.

The daughter invited me to her mother's funeral, where I was asked to share our story, that I thought had only belonged to my teacher and me. Later, I was invited to her home. She took me around her house, where I saw artwork on every wall. The artist was her mother. I never knew she also had a creative side, like me. She took me into a room, where a picture hung of a little girl. She said she always imagined that little girl to be me. She took the drawing off the wall, and gave it to me.

This dear woman thought it was important for me to know the value her mother placed on this moment with me. I'm not sure I was able to express the magnitude of what she did for me that day.

I learned that Mrs. Robb was living only walking distance from me in a care facility. I drive by there every day and think of her. I think of this amazing story that God began writing so many years ago, as if he was saying to us both, "Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies? And not one of them is forgotten before God. Why, even the hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear not; you are of more value than many sparrows."

We are not insignificant. We are valued by the Creator of the universe. He is writing your story.

Alice Josephine Robb

Mrs. Alice Robb's 5th Grade Class

From the top left: Aunt Marge, Uncle Reno, Aunt Rita, From the bottom left: Granny Biondi, and Grandma Alice.

Grandma Alice's Wedding Announcement

Learn more about Alice Robb