Mrs. Chandler and the Snow Goose

I had Mrs. Chandler for an English course titled Great Adventures Sea as a sophomore in college.  She was an elegant, elderly woman who loved literature, and loved her students.  As I am celebrating Ramadan, I am looking back and remembering those people who cared about me and helped me get to where I am today.  Mrs. Chandler is one of those people who changed my life drastically with a small, kind gesture.

I enjoyed the course, although I did not apply myself as I should have.  To that point in my career, I had only made C's and B's, with a few D's thrown in for good measure.  I had not made an A since grade school (a long story).  Mrs. Chandler made the class interesting, and I enjoyed reading the novels she had selected.  When we got to the novella, The Snow Goose by Paul Gallico, Mrs. Chandler decided to read it to us in one sitting.  I was amazed. She read it with passion and excitement, and I was hooked from the first few words. I know now why the story resonated so those thirty odd years ago.  It was a story of a crippled man who took refuge in a lighthouse on the coast of England.  He was a recluse, and desired only to be left alone.  One winter, a large Canadian Snow Goose shows up at the lighthouse, caught up in an Arctic storm and blown across the Atlantic so the protagonist believed.  He cares for the bird, and catches the attention of a little girl from the village.  She is afraid and wary of him, but attracted by the bird.  Eventually, she overcomes her trepidation and spends time with the odd duo.  By the fall, the bird had recovered, and was destined to fly off, the man knowing the girl would leave as well once the bird was gone.  It was a sad moment in the story, and I had to disguise my tears.  The following year the bird returned as did the little girl.  Several years passed with this cycle, and the man and the girl accepted the protocol of the bird's migration.

The story ends with the battle of Dunkirk, when the man takes his tiny sloop over across the channel to help evacuate troops, all the while with the great bird circling above.  The man makes several trips, but is eventually killed.  The bird circles for a long time then flies back to the lighthouse.  It stays there long enough to see the girl, then flies off never to return.  It was a sad beautiful story, brought to life by this great teacher.  At the end of the term, I had made my typical B, B- grade, but Mrs. Chandler decided I deserved an A for the progress I had made with her.  I was shocked, and I went to see her thinking she had made an error.  She sat me down and told me that she had given me the A because she knew my potential, and she wanted me to reach for higher heights.  It was the first time someone had shown unconditional faith in me. 

Today, if you look at my college transcripts you will see a dramatic pattern - dozens of C's and B's before that course, all most all A's afterwards.  She had faith in me and she helped me find faith in myself.  She was a beautiful soul, and whenever I see a large white bird, I think of Mrs. Chandler and I smile.