When I was offered a position at McAuliffe Charter School, it was a little ironic. It was an interesting coincidence that, of all the 351 towns and cities in the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, my new school was going to be in Framingham.
You see, this is not the first time I’ve worked in Framingham.
I see the town of Framingham today through the eyes of a middle aged man with a wealth of experience in the world around him. When I first viewed Framingham, it was through the eyes of a 22-year-old college graduate who was starting his first job. I had zero world experience. I knew nothing about the “real world.”
I worked at a financial services outfit on Concord Street. Framingham was a different town then. They built cars in Framingham in those days and a train full of new cars rolling out of town was a common sight.
I remember there was a drug store down the block, where I would buy a bag of Fritos and a Tab for lunch some days.
Across the street on the second floor was a tailor. I had him do some alterations for me and I had one of those, literally, unforgettable moments, when I looked down at his forearm and saw, just below his rolled up sleeve, a number tattooed into his skin. He’d been in a Nazi concentration camp and survived. It was an epiphanal moment for me, one where time stopped as I realized the significance of what I was seeing.
Last week, as we walked to Market Basket to do our expedition field work, we passed my old place of business. It was not lost on me how wildly unpredictable life can be. No one could have predicted all the twists and turns my life had to take to bring me back to the streets of Framingham.
The wide-eyed, ambitious young man who once worked here has been replaced by an older, wiser man intent on sharing his knowledge and experience with a new generation.
As we all trooped past my old store front, I thought, “I’ve seen this place before, but through very different eyes.”
