Mrs. F. was a fourth grade teacher at my own elementary school. She was never my teacher but I always noticed her. Back then, she seemed glamorous. She wore pencil skirts, her hair in a twist, and always lipstick and high heels. Last week, I saw her walking in my neighborhood. I see her from time to time, but today she had a walking partner. I did a double take when I saw her partner as they approached. It was Ms. Peters. My first grade teacher. I resisted the urge to run to them and hug her. I told my friend that I was walking with that I just saw my first grade teacher, but I decided not to say anything. I wish I had.
Today, after another ballet competition and many hours of a soccer jamboree, we made an impromptu visit to a diner. Everyone was tired and too hungry to go wait for the home cooked dinner that had been planned before the day got busy.
As I ushered my kids into a booth, making sure they were positioned for any unnecessary fighting (my oldest has not been very tolerant of our youngest lately) I heard a familiar voice say, “Hi Jessica!”
I turned to see a familiar smile, Mrs. L, my seventh grade reading teacher and her husband who had also taught at the middle school my husband and I attended. We chatted about my kids and career for a few minutes. I told her I was a literacy coach. “I followed in your footsteps.” I touched her arm, resisting the urge once again to hug a teacher. Mrs. L. said she didn’t want to keep us from our dinner, but I could have snuggled into the booth and chatted with her forever. Suddenly, seventh grade felt like yesterday.
My daughter’s retired kindergarten teacher is now a para educator at our school. Her slice of life posted on our school blog today. She wrote about what she learned about her mom after she passed. “At the time, she had been busy managing a household with five children while working full time. I don’t think I truly understood the weight of that until I became a mother myself.”
I couldn’t help but think about this as I thought about my own teachers, the heroes I looked up to and wanted to become. Back then, I never could have imagined all that they were juggling. The only thing that matters to me was that they cared about me and my classmates. Maybe that’s why I felt the strong urge to hug my teachers thirty years later, to let them feel all that I know and realize now. To say thank you.
Where There Is Joy 
Oh! I, too, wish you had hugged them. This is what teaching is about, isn’t it? It’s not what our teachers teach us, exactly: it’s what we feel like while they teach us. I envy you a small community where you are still seeing your old teachers from time to time. I bet Mrs. L was more delighted than she could express to find out what you do now: I would be.
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This is great. From the perspective of the old teacher, I would say that your first grade teacher would not have minded at all if you interrupted their walk for a hug. It’s one of the unpredictable rewards. I, too, envy your proximity to your old teachers. Actually knowing them as an adult is pretty coo;
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This is so sweet and so crazy that you see so many of your teachers, I wish I did. When our students remember us, that’s a gift and when your teacher remembers you all these years later, that is a gift, too!
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Ah, this is great. Hug a teacher today! It’s fascinating to use your lens to put myself into the shoes of my prior teachers. I remember so many of them, and, they are also somewhat one-dimensional. It’s fascinating to consider that they too had lives outside of my classroom, and thought about people other than just myself and my classmates. Thanks for the provocative insights. ;0
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The teachers of the past! You could use this post at a new teacher orientation to remind teachers of the power they have. People might remember their shoe choice many years from now.
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I enjoyed reading about your encounters with your former teachers. It’s cool that one of them recognized you and initiated the conversation.
I love Melanie’s idea! I think it’s good to remind all teacher (young teachers in particular) about the impact they can have on students.
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As a retired teacher who still lives (and walks) in my school neighborhood, I had to read this! I love these moments, both meeting former students and their parents (first grade teachers get to know some parents pretty well!) but what I especially loved was your take on seeing them now in a broader light, which makes you even more grateful and appreciative.
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Such a great reminder that those connections matter above all else in schools.
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The idea of living in a community where you could still run into former teachers with such frequency is a marvel to me. It’s lovely to remember and be remembered and to also recognize what we’ve learned in the intervening years about life thanks to some of those key adults.
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