Sometimes, I wonder if any of my former students from my brief after-school art program will remember me into adulthood, then I think about the lady at the daycare inside the grocery store.
When I was three, my mom dropped me and my sister off in the in-store childcare center to shop for groceries. I was a pretty shy and axious kid, and at this point, I hadn't been cared for by non-family members much. Asking a stranger for care was new and terrifying. I had to pee, and I was too shy to speak up, so I tried to hold it until my mom came back. I ended up wetting my pants, and I was really embarrassed and started crying. I knew you were not supposed to pee your pants, so I thought the daycare lady would be upset with me. My sister, five at the time and way less shy, convinced me to tell the lady. I was so scared she'd be mad, but she wasn't. She comforted me and cleaned me up, put me in dry clothes, and washed and dried my soiled ones. When she put the rest of the kids down for nap time, I was still really upset, so she picked me up and held me while she did paperwork. I remember feeling so comfortable in her arms, and my eyelids starting to feel heavy, eyes drifting in and out of focus, the muffled sounds of the grocery store on the other side of the counter mixing with the lullaby cd in the daycare. I felt safe. I was safe. I fell asleep, and when I woke up, she was still holding me while talking to my mom, who had just come to pick us up. The idea of having to rely on a strange lady for care was so scary to three year old me, but she was so kind to me. I'm getting emotional thinking about it. I only knew her for an hour or two total, but I remember her 25 years later. I don't remember anything else about her, just that she was kind and comforting and made me feel safe in a less than ideal situation. I hope my students remember me in a similar way. I hope I brought comfort and safety to them. I wish she knew I remember her.
