When I was in Teacher’s College, I was part of an immersion program where a selected group of about 25 students would spend a day a week in a local elementary school, focusing our learning on language arts in the classroom. It was funny, because even though we were in the school itself, the classroom we were in was an extension of the university, rarely did we interact with children during those days. In addition, the group of us were also in most other classes together. As a result, we spent a lot of time with our fellow students and amazing friendships developed. 

It was in this program that I met Joanne. (Well, more specifically, I met her outside of the class, trying to figure out what kind of program we joined and where were we supposed to go?) I quickly found we had a similar sense of humor and outlook and subsequently spent most of the year laughing so hard that either crying or pants-peeing would ensue. That year is one that I will always remember, the road trips, procrastination, pub nights, breakfasts at the hoito, sing alongs, boys and more boys, nicknames and other things amongst the stress of knowing that: holy crap, next year we are going to have careers…

Part of what was so daunting for me that year were the practicums that would need to be completed in an elementary school classroom. Not the practicum itself, but the fact that there were no further spots in the school board in my hometown, so I would have to move cities for a number of months to fulfill my requirements. I decided to move to Southern Ontario, where my mother’s sister and her young family lives and that meant moving away from most of my family and friends for the the first time.

Joanne lived about 45 minutes away from my new home in Newmarket, and knew Toronto very well from growing up in its suburbs and working there for a number of years. For some reason, this wonderful woman took pity on me and would come to pick me up every weekend (Friday night or Saturday morning) and she would spend the weekends with me, tour guiding me through Toronto’s neighborhoods and really showing me the city from the inside out. We nicknamed her father’s home, which we took over on the weekends, the Frathouse, in homage to the excessive amounts of beer and whiskey were being consumed on a weekly basis and hellya, we were going to deal with the stress of the daunting, grown up future by being as young as possible now. The mantra: “What are you going to do about it? Cry? No, keep drinking!” was born and suited our purposes very well for that year.

Last weekend, I spent Friday night with Joanne (or Josie as she is known to the Riverdale Crew) and it brought back these amazing memories and such gratitude for having met such a kind soul. It is her I credit with breaking this Betty Cooper out of her small-town mentality and stagnation and fear. Without her support and friendship, I am sure my life would be much different and absolutely I would have fewer stories to tell.

It will be a lifetime of Betty trying to pay back Josie for these precious gifts.