MR. JOBE AND THE TENNIS RACKET

When I was in elementary school, one of my teachers was Mr. Jobe. He was a very nice, friendly man, and a great teacher. He was also the school Principle.

One day in his math class, we were taking a test. Everyone was quietly working, and as each student finished, they took their paper to the teacher’s desk and returned to their seat. I think Mr. Jobe may have been grading the papers as they were turned in. At least, he was sitting at his desk looking down at whatever he was doing.

When I completed my test, I folded it and put my name on it. Then, I walked to his desk and laid it with the other student’s papers. As I turned to head back to my desk, I noticed a set of tennis rackets laying on the shelf which was on the wall to the right of the teacher. His desk was several feet from the wall behind him to allow room to access the blackboard, so the shelf was behind him.

Of course, me being the clown that I was, I picked up one of those rackets and got my friend Randy’s attention. I pretended the tennis ball was coming at me as I swung the racket to right. Then, I stepped to the side and swung to the left. Then, I raised the racket over my right shoulder and swung it straight up over my head. When I did, the round, three-ringed, metal light fixture came crashing to the floor. That got everybody’s attention, including Mr. Jobe.

I looked at the mess on the floor, then I look at him. He was looking at me and getting up out of his chair. I knew I was in trouble. He grabbed the paddle, then he grabbed me by the arm and said, “Out in the hall. The very idea; Playing in the room.” I had always been angry with the teachers after they paddled me before, but not this time. Of all the paddlings I had gotten in school over the years, I knew I deserved that one, so I braced myself for it and took it like a man. Soon, it was over and I went back in and reassembled the light fixture, and took the walk of shame back to my desk. I always liked, and respected Mr. Jobe and the paddling didn’t change that.

After we graduated, I didn’t see him again for more than fifteen years. Then, one day my wife asked me if I knew a Charles Jobe. I said I did and asked her why. She said he was a patient at the assisted living facility where she worked. My children would go over and sing to the people there sometimes to cheer them up. Mr. Jobe saw my youngest son and thought he looked like me. He asked him his name and found out I was his dad so he told my wife to ask me to come and see him.

When I walked into his room, his eyes lit up, and even though he was not feeling well, that encouraging smile he always had for his students covered his whole face. We talked for quite a while about the old days, about my sisters, and about some of the other students and teachers at our old school.

Then he told me something very interesting. He said he had a dream. I think he said he had it more than once. In the dream, God’s angels were singing a song. He said when he woke up from the dream, he wrote the song down, words and music, and had it published. He even received some royalty money from it. I thought that was amazing.

Before we left that day, my kids sang for him and we prayed with him. That’s the last time I saw him. He was soon moved to a nursing home in another state, and later we heard that he had passed away. I’m glad I got to see him that one last time. I’m glad God put him in my life for those few years in elementary school. He made a difference in my life and the lives of so many others. I hope someone can say that about me after I’m gone.

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