I met Corrine on November 13, 1989 in the teachers' lounge at Truman Elementary School in La  Quinta, California somewhere between 8:05 a.m. and 8:45 a.m.  I'm not ordinarily this precise about my memory of people, places or things. In truth, the only other exact time I recall meeting anyone was when my son Johnny was born.  It was 7:26 a.m. according to the shout out by the delivery room nurse.

Corrine and I were both hired as new 5th grade teachers and I was scheduled into the first prep period time slot with her.  A prep period was the forty minutes allotted to teachers each day to prepare the instructional program for the students.  I was thrilled to have a job, in this particular school district, at this particular school, working for an amazing principal.  So when I hit the campus on day 1, I was, as with most overachievers, over prepared.  I escorted my students, all 36 of them, to the soccer field where they were greeted by the physical education teacher, Ms. Pederson.  She was tall, blonde, athletic, and had a smile that dazzled, something right out of a toothpaste commercial. I immediately felt short and frumpy.

I made my way to the teachers' lounge for a much needed break and gravitated toward the coffee machine.  There she was mumbling about a mysterious someone who left the machine on and the pot empty.  She was in my way and squandering my precious "prep time." Like a pro, she refilled the filter added a carafe of water and wthin minutes, the aroma of fresh coffee filled the room.

She sat down at one of the round cafeteria style tables only sold or rather only purchased by  institutions, and adjusted herself in one of the coordinating chairs.  She had her own ceramic coffee cup; very stealth.

"My husband, Tom, and I moved here from Iowa a little over two years ago.  He was a lawyer back home and now he works as a real estate agent with a company called Mary Zimmerman Realty in Ranchoo Mirage,  We have four boys, Tom, Steve, David and Tim.  We live in La Quinta now but used to live in Cathedral City."

I kept looking for a break in the monologue but I couldn't see one coming.

"Tom is from McGregor, Iova; it's near the river.  I'm from Aurelia.  It's a town of about 700 but we settled in Holstein and raised our boys."

I glanced over and saw the coffee had finished brewing.  I excused myself and went to the ladies room.  When I returned she had gone.  The level on the carafe was down two cups so I know she had restocked.  I found a Styrofoam cup, filled it with creamer and sweetener and headed back to my classroom.

When I got home that afternoon from day one of my new job, in my new school, with my new principal, I thought to myself, "How would I ever be able to take prep periods with Corrine and all that upbeat chatter?  What had the gods gone and done?

Prior to my job at Truman, I had resigned my  position as a principal for one of the local private, religious schools.  The pastor and I had a falling out and extreme pressure had been brought to bear on me to resign.  I didn't have a back-up plan save for submitting a job application to the local public school district.  I was truly at the height of my distress when I received a call from my soon to be ex-mother-in-law that a Mrs. Mendoza had requested that I interview for a 5th grade teaching position at her school.  I dressed for success in a black skirt, white blouse, and black and white houndstooth jacket and the rest, they say, is history.

So I really needed to have this work.  I returned for day two.  The schedule was a little different.  I only had thirty minutes and this was a library visit and I acccompanied the the students.  No coffee break.  But on Day 3 Corrine and I again met in the teachers' lounge and the Iowa saga continued... and again on Day 4.  On Fridays, the school counselor  came to the classroom for a thirty minute lesson and I stayed with them.

The days and weeks continued on and I became more a part of the school and the students became more mine than the teachers and clasrooms they had been reassigned from to create my new class. I must confesss that going for coffee three times a week wasn't required but seeing Corrine and hearing about her life had become part of my life now.

I don't remember talking all that much to her though I must have.  But I was tired of telling the story of my impending divorce, the protracted trials, his dallinaces, the money problems and the ongoing tug-of-war over a fair minded and reasonable custodial arrangement for our son, and the ongoing, relentless fear that engulfed me all the time, every day.

Christmas comes early to an elementary school.  Preparations were under way when I was hired in November for an all school Holiday Show; and the counselor's once a week time slot was usurped by one of the fourth grade teachers who had miraculously volunteered to prepare all the 4th & 5th graders in presenting the song, "Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree."

All ten classrooms of kids met in the multipurpose room for weekly practice.  Corrine caught my eye, gave me the high sign and within seconds, we had escaped for our now ritual coffee break.

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