THE DAILY WRITE
My Sixth Grade Savior
Another Day In Paradise
This is a response to the MIDFORM Daily Write Challenge… June 2nd: Who was your favorite teacher or mentor growing up, and why?
“What are you thinking?” Katherine broke me out of my reverie, as I stood facing the old school “When I was a kid, this place was my home for several years. My dad was a marine, and he was stationed here. We lived on the other side of that fenced field area.” I pointed towards the back of the campus, as Katherine finished walking around the car and slid her hand into mine.
“Show me,” she bumped into my side, causing the pucka shell necklace I had just gotten from one of the many shell stands to jangle. Her blue wrap contrasted my red, I was a diehard, always finding wears that matched my fiery locks.
We walked, hand-in-hand, up to the walkway. Although the light was still abundant in the late afternoon sky, the school was closed, it was Sunday after all. We made our way down the walkway.
“I was here, from 4th through 6th, grade,” I said, in quiet conspiratorial tones, “and I always got in trouble for not paying attention. In 4th I had to do a whole pile of math dittos over winter break because I thought they were dumb,” I sighed, “My teacher thought it was me.”
Katherine chuckled, “Well, Jenny, another good impression…” I had had years to learn how she chided, just part of her charm. “Yes, dear,” I replied in my customary saccharine sweetness, we played this game all the time.
“In fifth, it was more of the same,” I said sadly, “but…” I brightened, “in 6th there was Mr. Kento.” I reached into my bag and pulled out an old red felt box, metal and with faded spots all around. I opened it and showed Katherine. Inside was an arrowhead, an old speaker magnet, and some smaller bits of metal, I smiled, “I got this all from Mr. Kento. He was my homeroom teacher, and he had this blood vessel in his forehead that used to pulse when I was into my antics.”
“Well, girls will be girls,” Katherine quipped. I smiled, nicely played. We were both transgender and we did this sort of affirming for each other all the time. It was a well-worn, well-earned labor of love, one that had drawn us together, truth-talking we called it, a little T&T…
“Yes,” I winked, “Kento told my parents at the first conference that I was acting out because I was gifted, and needed more input. So he would let me stay after school and help him clean out the junk cabinet” I held up the box, its treasures secured again inside, “I spent hours working on it, so many little treasures. He let me keep these,” I smiled again, “he just seemed to know that was what was needed for me. He created a space for me to be me in, and helped my curiosity grow me into the glorious troublemaker I am today.”
I looked around again and sighed. They would be ‘renovating’ the school soon, all that history, wiped away. I wanted Katherine to see it before it was gone. So many stories in that school, my first business, my first fight, my first time being chased by girls, some things never changed, although, to be fair, we kind of took turns with that…
I led Katherine around to the side of Kento’s classroom. The units were all outside, a literal open campus. “This,” I gestured proudly, “was the kissing corner. Where all my 6th-grade buddies would show off their skills as make-out artists.” I winked as I pulled Katherine around to face me. Tomorrow more beach time, more surfing, more showing off my old digs. But for the moment…we kissed…
Key Message: Caregivers that see and set safe spaces can change the world as profoundly as any doer does. Look, pay attention, affirm, create, transform…