Although I am only a high school graduate and almost all schools require a college degree, I consider myself to be as much a teacher as those in regular school classrooms. I also enjoy my teaching much more than most of the school teachers I have known.
My husband approves of my teaching, I have been doing it for the past ten years, and helps select my students. I have had a total of thirty four of them, most for periods lasting from one to three months. I started when I was thirty seven and I plan to continue as long as I am able to find students.
Inadvertently, my son Jimmy was the cause of it all.
The first student of my teaching career was an eighteen year old boy named Scott. Scott was almost a carbon copy of my son before he met his teacher. I wanted to help Scott develop in the way Jimmy had. Maybe I better explain about Jimmy.
Oh! What do I look like? Close your eyes. That's me against your eyelids. Can you tell I jog about three miles a day when the weather is nice, or spend at least an hour doing aerobics when it is cold or rainy? Enough, already!
My husband, Jim Johnson, has worked in the oil patch following drilling rigs from oil field to oil field all of our married life. Our son and I, I'm Jane by the way, followed him.
Jimmy had attended seventeen different schools in five states by the time he graduated from high school. He was a shy and introverted boy as a result of our many moves and the short stays at most of the schools. Needless to say, we were never in one location long enough for him to develop any deep or lasting friendships.
Although I thought he was attractive, tall, well maybe a little on the skinny side, most young girls would not have considered him a 'hunk'. He had never had a serious girlfriend. When we moved to a fairly large West Texas town the middle of his senior year in high school, he turned eighteen on Christmas Day, I know he was still a virgin.
With the weather warming up that spring, Ann Wilkes, a widowed neighbor, asked Jimmy to help her with yard work and other odd jobs around her house. Ann was about fifty years old, I never asked, to Jim's and my thirty seven, but was still an attractive lady who took care of herself. Eventually we began jogging and doing aerobics together.
Jimmy was eager to help her and earn some money on his own so I told him to go for it. I might not have been so willing if I had known in advance what some of the odd jobs would turn out to be.
That first Saturday and Sunday he worked his tail off. Although his butt was dragging when he returned home, his enthusiasm remained high. He told me all they had done and was looking forward to the next weekend.
When he returned home the next Saturday I knew something had happened. Although not exactly upset, his demeanor was entirely different from that of the previous weekend. He barely spoke when he came in and immediately went to his room. The weekend before the first thing he did was hit the shower to rid himself of his grubbiness.
After putting supper on the table, I knocked on his door. Receiving no response, I quietly opened it. He had a smile on his face as he slept in his clothes. As I watched, he stirred and mumbled something and the smile got bigger. He was obviously enjoying a dream.
I was still sitting at the table when he sleepily emerged from his bedroom. While fixing him a plate, I asked "How'd your day go?"
He glanced at me, then down at his plate. I thought I detected a blush. "Just fine." was his noncommittal answer.
My "What did you do?" was rewarded with a full blush. I did not think I had ever seen him so red faced.
I got angry! What did that woman do to my son? I will snatch her bald headed! I demanded, "What did she do to you?"
"Nothing." he mumbled.
"Don't give me that! What happened?" I pressed.
"I can't talk about it." He continued to mumble.
"And why not?"
"I promised Ann, Ms. Wilkes, I wouldn't. Besides, I can't talk to YOU about it."
"I... am... your... Mother! You can talk to me about anything!"
Stubbornly, "No."
"Fine! You will NOT have anything to do with her any more. That job is finished! I will have a talk with her!"
"No, Mom. Please!"
I sat and glared at him. He knew I was serious; it was over. I did not think he could, but he got redder in the face. So softly I could barely hear him, "We had sex."
"What?", I almost screamed.
He took a deep breath, looked me in the eye, and repeated in a stronger voice, "We had sex. And I am going to see her again, Mom." I had never heard such confidence and determination in his voice. It was as if he had grown up all of a sudden.
"How? Why?" I wondered. "Tell me exactly what happened."
"We were sitting at her table drinking a cup of coffee before we started to work. She told me how attractive she thought I was, how good looking. Me, good looking? But I could tell she meant it, Mom. She told me how lonely she was. Then she kissed me. Her lips were so warm, so soft." He had a dreamy expression.
"Then she told me I should go home. She would pay me, but I should leave. She was sorry for what she had done. She did not want to upset me. She told me to come back in the morning and we would do the work she wanted as if today never happened.
"I told her I was not upset. That she was the only one, other than you, Mom, that had ever said I was good looking, and I liked it. I told her I would go home if she wanted me to, but she couldn't pay me if I didn't work.