THANK YOU, SANDIE
ADELMAN
Of the thousands of people who
have passed in and out of my life for over a half century, Sandie Adelman may
very well have had the most profound effect on me.
I was 30ish, somewhat lost, and
very unemployed when the Department of Labor sent me one fateful 1990 day to
the Queens Adult Learning Center. I had already burned through two careers- a
failed common branch teacher and a laid off associate editor in educational publishing.
Told again and again I had too little experience to be a senior editor and too
much to be entry level, I was “falling through the cracks.” Groping at straws,
the Labor Department suggested I improve my then barely existent computer skills.
That’s when I met Sandie.
Sitting at her cluttered QALC
desk, she was chain smoking, while furiously typing away at the computer. I timidly
approached her.
“Have a seat” she said in a
welcoming manner.
“What can I do for you?” she
straight out asked.
I told her my sad tale of
walking out on a bottom sixth grade class the day before Christmas vacation,
weary from a principal who intimidated rather than nurtured. There was a brief
pause as if it had taken time to sink in.
“You’re a TEACHER?” she asked
somewhat incredulously.
Well, I had been some five years earlier,
anyway.
Then, after a lengthy chat, from
out of left field she hit me with something totally unexpected.
“I may have a class for you to
teach. Let me make a few calls.”
Fear pierced me to the core. Teaching
was something I did in my past that felt like a gaping wound. It was something
that was over. Done. Never again. The
last time I had taught I staggered out reeling , was making a whopping $21,900,
and the kids were certainly no bargain either. There wasn’t much motivating me
to ever return.
Then she broke me out of my
trance.
“It’s called IRCA. Citizenship.
It’s like teaching history. I think you’d be good at it.”
She clearly had more confidence
in me than I did. Somehow, in spite of my trepidation, that felt nice at least.
The next thing I knew, I was somehow,
miraculously a teacher. Again.
And it felt better than good.
The adult students wanted to be there. They listened and asked questions and took
notes.
Hell, they even thanked me.
It was teaching in its purest sense.
But it was still just a “night job.” Part time. A band-aid. I still had
bills to pay and a life to rebuild.
Then, once again, it was Mrs. Adelman to the rescue.
Summoning me into her office she told me, “I need a new E.O.”
Now I barely knew what an Educational Officer did, let alone if I could
do it, but it suddenly dawned on me that she was offering someone with zero
experience a full-time job.
With much trepidation I accepted. What did I have to lose?
I was now an office manager. And in a very real sense, working hand in
hand with Sandie Adelman.
As the four or so year stint progressed, I most certainly saw her tough
side, but how could she not have been tough with her having taught at Riker’s Island
Prison? Yet time and again I saw her sit untold numbers of students down, listening
ever so patiently to their harrowing tales, and witnessed firsthand her doing
everything humanly possible to help them change their lives.
One after another after another, the students got jobs and GED’s and
moved on. And nobody was prouder than Sandie Adelman.
And there were so many times I sat in that officer or when she’d drop me
off at my door after a long day at work, where I’d tell her about my own issues
outside the job. And she listened and advised and counseled and even consoled
me like a second mother.
On other occasions she riveted me with tales of her travels to exotic
lands- and her adventures that went far beyond those of mere tourists. I was
fascinated and maybe even a bit envious. Hey, I sure wasn’t going to sleep in
an igloo or do some of the wild things most of us never dared to do.
The woman knew how to live.
And upon her return from yet
another corner of the globe, she’d sit at that incredibly cluttered desk where she
was indeed a force.
Eventually, I returned to the classroom full-time, Sandie retired, and
life moved on. And as hard as it is to believe, hers has ended. But I will
never forget that Sandie Adelman believed in me, gave me a new start in life,
and all the while treated me like a second son. Because of her I have had a
wonderful career that has enabled me to also give service to others. Because of
her I own an apartment and have the security that a nest egg and ultimately a pension
will offer me. At a function a few years back I am most grateful that I had the
opportunity to thank her for all this and more.
That this one woman so profoundly changed my life is remarkable. And that
she helped change the lives of so many others who crossed her path attests to a
life well spent.
To the day I die, I am in Sandie Adelman’s debt for every door she opened
for me.
Thank you so much, Sandie. Yes, thank you.
--Evan
Ginzburg
