Tribute to a Courageous Man

Today's post is dedicated to a man who, during our short acquaintance, impressed me with his courageous decision to learn to read. To protect his privacy, I will call him "Jim".

I met Jim in 1999, when I became a literacy tutor with my local literacy center. He was my first student, and I was his first tutor. He seemed as nervous as I felt.

I was eager to make a good impression on Jim. As a rather shy person, I worried about developing a rapport with and gaining the trust of this gentleman. Jim and I shook hands in the lobby, making small talk as we assessed one another. He was a bear of a man, tall and rotund. He had unkempt curly brown hair and a beard streaked with gray. He wore a plaid shirt and jeans. His strong cologne seemed at odds with his casual appearance and his rough hands. He was polite and friendly. I liked him immediately. We proceeded to an available room, closing the door for privacy.

We spent the first fifteen minutes getting acquainted. Jim described his background, and what had led to his decision to contact the literacy center.

He was in his late thirties, had never married and had no children. He had some close relatives in town. He was especially fond of his niece and nephew. His warehouse job was dirty and physically demanding; it left him exhausted at night. He lived fairly close to the literacy center, which was fortunate, as his driver's license had been revoked due to multiple DUI convictions. He told me that after his license was finally pulled, he realized he had to change. When I met him, he had been sober for a couple of years. I was impressed by his honesty, and while I, as his tutor, didn't need to know his history, it helped to shed light on his character. His goal in coming to us was to eventually receive a promotion.

His literacy assessment showed him to be reading at a third grade level. His eyes lit up when I gave him his workbook. He promised to work very hard so that he would be able to read the advanced stories that interested him. As we eased into the lesson, we both began to relax. We were so absorbed in our lesson that we lost track of time. I quickly assigned some homework and we gathered our things to leave.

When we opened the door of our study room, the building was in darkness, and everyone else had left. I was horrified. I didn't even know where the light switches were. We felt our way along the walls, located the lights and then tried the front door. It was locked from the outside. We wandered around and eventually located two more doors, but they were securely locked as well. So gentle was Jim's manner that not once did I feel uncomfortable being alone in his presence in an unfamiliar locked building at night. Even though he continually tried to reassure me, I was so embarrassed, and I was sure he would request another tutor. I finally found a staff directory and called home numbers until I reached someone who could rescue us. I was sure I would be fired, and I apologized to Jim in advance. He advised me to relax and everything would work out. He said he was actually enjoying himself.

As it turned out, I didn't get fired. But every time Jim and I were introduced to other volunteers, we heard, "Oh, so you're the two who got locked in."

Jim and I laughed about that night often. He was a hard worker. His writing, as well as his reading, improved. I still have all his essays, which show him to have been a man capable of strong emotion and deep thought. His mind was sharp. I gained confidence in myself by continually devising new ways to challenge him. His favorite stories were the ones about Babe Ruth, baseball and animals.

Sometimes we met at the center, other times at the library, or at his home. I always drove if we met elsewhere. Our time together was never awkward. If I had a bad day at work, he always knew what to say to make me feel better. Eventually I met some of his relatives, including his beloved niece and nephew. It was obvious how much they admired their uncle. At Christmas, Jim brought me his delicious homemade peanut brittle.

After about two years, Jim began to make excuses for not coming to class. When we did meet, he was often distracted. Frequently he failed to do his homework. He seemed to want to talk about what was wrong, but never said much. He told me that although the urge to drink was very strong, he hadn't given in, and I believed him. At the time, I was going through some personal issues of my own, and, I regret to say, felt relieved that we were meeting less. Eventually our meetings ceased altogether and we lost touch. I often thought about offering to tutor him privately, but I never made the call. I have never forgiven myself.

A few months ago, in an attempt to make amends after all these years, I finally called Jim's mother to find out how to get in touch with him. She told me the sad news: Jim passed away suddenly last fall from a pulmonary embolism. He was only
47. His family never got the chance to say goodbye. I am still grieving. I am full of remorse for having failed that good man. I hope the courage he displayed, the courage to overcome the stigma of illiteracy, to improve himself and help his family, will inspire others to learn to read. I know he inspired me--his gentle encouragement gave me the confidence to try other volunteer opportunities over the years. This post is my way of memorializing him. It will never be enough, but it is all I have to give.