A month ago, I received an email I never expected. As I read it, I felt the hair rise on the back of my neck.

Mishon Lawrence had been a student of mine, 50 years ago. Today she lives in Tampa, Fla. and had been rescuing photographs after the hurricane when she came across the class picture from 1974-75 of Mr. Dresser and his third-grade pupils.

Mishon remembered me and said I inspired her to become a teacher. I was overcome.

After graduating from college, I got a teaching job in Ayer, a small town in central Massachusetts. Teaching jobs were scarce at that time. To get the job, the superintendent of schools requested I shave my beard. And because the woman I lived with was already working in Ayer, he advised me to marry her to eliminate any issue with the school committee. After the first year of teaching, I was allowed to regrow my beard.

I was assigned a third-grade class at Fort Devens, an army base in the waning years of the Vietnam War. Ironically, as a conscientious objector, I had to salute an officer as I drove onto the base. My classroom was self-contained — I taught the 3 r’s, as well as reading Winnie the Pooh to my class, staging a play and typing student essays in a monthly newsletter.

I remembered Mishon, of course, from her name, her smile, her curiosity, her intellect and her enthusiasm. Of the 250 or so students I taught between 1970 and 1980, Mishon came to mind instantly: tall, quiet, with a quick wit and a wide smile, bright, happy and eager to learn.

I emailed her back, asking her for memories and what she was doing in life today.

“I remember Ft. Devens being a great place to be a kid,” she wrote back. “We had the freedom to walk to and from school with our friends and I do not remember much parent concern. I mostly remember a great group of peers without any conflicts, and I remember having a feeling of comfort in class.”

Mishon continued: “Thank you for making me feel safe and having such a positive influence on me that I wanted to be a teacher.”

For me, Fort Devens was a good fit as a teacher. While my masters degree in teaching from Simmons College advocated the open classroom, I preferred the traditional education model, which figured in the military environment of the families of my students. I believe I flourished in the teaching experience and look back on it fondly as an opportunity to become my own person in a work environment, creating an accepting atmosphere and enthusiasm for learning among my young charges.

And now I had heard from one of them. I can see Mishon smiling, as she adds to her recollections of third grade: “I do remember spelling tests that included the words spelled incorrectly from previous tests . . . I believe I had astronaut on my test for the entire school year.”

Mishon shared that she went on to teach students with emotional and behavior disorders for 10 years.  Then, armed with a graduate degree in Varying Exceptionalities,  she taught students with autism and related disorders for 20 years. Talk about dedication. I knew I saw a bright future for her, all those years ago. Now, I’m so proud she shared her success story with me.

Of teaching, Mishon added: “This is my 30th year and I still love it.”

At 58 however, she said retirement is on the horizon

Mishon added:  “I love Tampa. It is where I met my husband of 36 years and where we had our daughter. My daughter is 34, married and has two boys.”

Reconnecting with my past has been a poignant experience. It is gratifying to find I had such a positive impact on one eight year old, half a century ago. It offers clarity and closure to that decade I devoted to teaching the next generation.

Only looking back after half a century do I realize how excited I was as a teacher. Those years were filled with enthusiasm as I came of age as an adult just as the students were learning to read and write. In a very real sense, we were growing up together. Looking back, I can still see that little girl awkwardly holding her pencil, struggling to put her thoughts down on a big piece of paper, and then, with her eyes shining, reading what she has written on the page.

Tom Dresser lives in Oak Bluffs.