Sometimes it pays to be a talker...(Open the door and let people in...you never know who will walk through the door.)

It was back to school night and I had a very captive audience. (One of the great things about teaching first grade is that the parents are still enthusiastic about their children’s learning, and are fairly new to “Back to School” nights. )

I always begin my dog and pony show by telling the parents a little bit (or a WHOLE LOT) about myself.  I want them to know that I’m a parent and that I know exactly how they feel about placing their young child’s education in the hands of another.  I look at the children each day and know that they are someone's baby...just like mine where in someone else's room. 

This year I began by sharing about Golden Boy and his antics at the high school, followed by Sassy and her exploits at The College of Sports and Other Smart People; and ended with a little info about Bitchy.

“My oldest, Bitchy, is currently living at home with her mother. She’s a recent graduate of Smythe and Wesson University and is now an unemployed Nutritionist.   The girl who won’t wear anything but Michael Kors, Anne Taylor Loft or Tory Burch is desperately seeking her dream job with the WIC PROGRAM.  So, if any of you out there need a nutritionist, please let me know.  If she doesn’t get a job soon, someone’s gonna get hurt at my house and I’m pretty sure that it won’t be ME.”

I entertained for a bit more, and then filled them in on all the important information they needed to know about my classroom, etc. I passed out way too many handouts, and asked for questions. 

I wrapped up the speech and the parents approached me throughout the rest of the night to ask some clarifying questions and to share some friendly chatter.   It took about an hour for the room to begin to empty, and I noticed a quiet, very lovely woman waiting with Steven, an adorable but quiet student in the class.  Steven had given her a tour of the room, and she waited patiently for the other parents to finish.  I turned and gave her my attention. We chatted about Steven, the class, and I answered a few of her questions.  We hugged quickly as she prepared to leave.  She was walking to the door and stopped. 

“Oh!”  She said as she turned to come back to me.  “I forgot to tell you.  I work for WIC.  We are actually in need of SEVERAL nutritionists.  Here’s my card.  Have your daughter email me at that email address tomorrow, and we can set up an interview.”  

Then she smiled again,  “It’s always nice to save someone’s life.”

I watched her chase Steven out the door and stood in shock for what seemed like days.

Oh.   My.  God.    

(Should we talk about coincidences?  Should we?)