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After loss of son, teaching's not the same
For Georgianna Stephens-Smith, whose son was killed in Iraq, the classroom brings reminders of happier days. Now, it's time for her to say goodbye.
By S.I. ROSENBAUM
Published April 28, 2006
BRANDON - All day, the children keep her busy. They keep her mind occupied. But then it's the afternoon, and the children are gone. As Georgianna Stephens-Smith grades papers, the room seems too empty. This is the school where Kevin learned to read. This is where he learned to sing. She knows the place in the chapel where he hid a Bible verse before the carpet was laid down. "It's haunting me," she said. Before Army 1st Lt. Kevin Joseph Smith was killed by an insurgent's bomb in December in Iraq, he was bugging his mother to retire from her job as a first-grade teacher at Immanuel Lutheran School. You know I love teaching, she would tell him. I know, he would say. But life's too short. You need to enjoy life while you can, Mom. Then he was gone. This spring, Stephens-Smith is leaving the school where she has taught since 1980. When she started here, her son was a toddler. Her daughter was in second grade. For them, the school became an extension of home. The other teachers became like family. "We're just always there for each other, no matter what," said her colleague, Katrina Boone, 28, who teaches fifth grade. "Everybody's always looking out for each other." Two decades ago, Boone, was one of Stephens-Smith's students. Boone was hoping Stephens-Smith would stay at Immanuel Lutheran long enough to teach her daughter, who will begin first grade in two years. "I really wanted to share that with my daughter, to say we had the same first-grade teacher," Boone said. Without Stephens-Smith, the school won't be the same. "To me, she is Immanuel," Boone said. "When I think of everything here, I think of her. She's the first person you see, always the first person in the building in the morning. She's our smiling face. She's like our sun." When Kevin was killed, teachers and alumni packed the church for his memorial service. Principal Martin Barlau played the organ and led the choir. He remembers stepping into the church and seeing Stephens-Smith. He wondered what he could say to her about such a loss. Then Stephens-Smith turned to him. "Let's have a celebration," she said. "That made it easier," Barlau said. "That made it a pleasure to lead the singers." Stephens-Smith bore her loss with grace, he said. "Georgie has been almost a model of Christian faith." "She's been a good witness to all of us," Boone said. "I don't know if I could be that strong." Stephens-Smith said she takes it day by day. She looked for a support group for families of fallen soldiers. She couldn't find one. "There's nothing," she said. She has no bitterness about the war. She received two letters from President Bush, and she treasures them: They're "personal and down-to-earth and heartfelt," she says. "His heart is really in the right place," she says. In her retirement, she wants to get in touch with all grieving families in the area and gather them together. She'll miss teaching. "I love seeing them learn," she said. "The magic of reading, their imaginations are still so fresh and creative." In a way, the children have understood her loss. One little boy always runs to her with a hug. "Your son wants me to hug you," he says. It makes tears come to her eyes. It hurts, but she doesn't want him to know. "Why are you crying?" the boy asks. "You make me so happy," she says. S.I. Rosenbaum can be reached at 661-2445 or srosenbaum@sptimes.com.
[Last modified April 27, 2006, 13:56:08]
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