A Talk with Mrs. Tillman

Lillian Tillman-DeWitt is 92 years young. And I count her as one of the seven angels who watched over me through trying times.

I met Mrs. Tillman, as I knew her then, in December 1979, when I walked through the doors of 165 Clinton Avenue, the building known as the Albany Street Academy high school. And right from the jump, I found out quickly that she was no ordinary school administrator.

She was the principal of Albany’s alternative high school, a place for students who didn’t charitably “fit in” with the Albany High School ethic. And as a kid with a horrible childhood, I “fit in” with the Street Academy more than with any other school. And Lillian Tillman made sure that every one of her students – including that snot-nosed, scrawny, Coca-Cola glasses-wearing, pizza-pimple-faced white kid fit in as well.

During my time at Street Academy, I saw Lillian Tillman interact with her staff and with the students the same way a mother would interact with all her siblings and offspring. She was supportive, but she was tough. Anybody who got the word to “Go See Mrs. T in her office” knew they were in some deep trouble. But they also knew that Mrs. T would find a way to help them improve.

I spoke with her over the weekend. And we talked about our time together at Street Academy. And she told me an anecdote.

She told me that one of her students, Peter Richards, was in trouble and at the Albany County Jail. She went to the jail to visit, and one of the workers greeted her with, “Good morning, Mrs. Tillman, which of your kids are you picking up today?” And I know that worker didn’t mean that as an insult or an aside – he meant it as Mrs. Tillman collecting a sheep that had strayed from the flock. And even in later years, some of the students would reach out to her in their adult years, either thanking her for saving their life – or saying how much they regretted not listening to her when she offered life-saving advice.

And I told her in that phone conversation over the weekend that it wasn’t just my life she saved. She and the teachers at Street Academy saved so many lives. Street Academy took us from a handout to a way out. From a highway to hell, to a stairway to heaven. She wasn’t in this just for the paycheck and the perks. She was an administrator that was a second mother to kids who may not have even had a first mother.

Trust me. In 2016, Lillian Tillman-DeWitt was inducted into the Albany City School District Hall of Fame, one of several Street Academy administrators receiving that honor (including Harriet Gibbons, Milton Horne, Eileen Kawola and Edward Trant). I blogged about that moment. Because, of course I did.

The reunion and the honor

Lillian Tillman-DeWitt has blessed the world for 92 years. And I know there are many Street Academy alumni who still find a way to keep in touch with her one way or the other. She means so much to all of us. And I know she cares about every student who walked through the halls of that old Clinton Avenue building.

And in our conversation, I remembered how important that connection to life can be. You only get one spin on this earth. You need to make every second of your time on this planet count. Someone paved that journey for you. Now it’s your turn to repave for someone else to walk.

We all have a Mrs. Tillman in our life. Whether it’s a teacher, or a clergyman, or an elected official, or a trusted relative. These are the people we need to honor and remember and bless.

And every day that Lillian Tillman-DeWitt can share that knowledge and love with others, is the best day possible.

God bless.