Friday, October 4, 2013

Remember the Teacher

Kindergarten room
Photo credit: Contract Surfaces, Inc.
This week's Remember The Time Blog Hop is about teachers. Which leads me to this confession:

I'm Facebook friends with my Kindergarten teacher. 

I feel like this fact is more interesting than the time my high school English teacher diagrammed a sentence he'd overheard in the hall ("Wes was going" - that's not referring to a person named Wes, but it's a double plural - "we" with an s on the end.) because he just had to discuss how many ways that sentence was wrong. Mr. Black loved lamenting how stupid and provincial Brooklyn teens were (some of his students  had never left Brooklyn), and I kept thinking - dude, we're from here. You voluntarily moved here from another state. Who's the bigger dumbass in this situation?

But back to Miss Norma from Kindergarten. It was Montessori, so there was a lot of learning at your own pace. But other than that, it was pretty standard Kindergarten stuff. Cubbies. Sitting on the floor. Snack time. I was little, so it was all a bit of a blur. But my mom substitute taught at my school (and then eventually taught there full time), so she socialized with Miss Norma and some of the other teachers.

I remember going to Miss Norma's apartment in Greenwich Village once. OK, just Norma - she keeps asking all her ex-students to stop calling her Miss Norma on Facebook and it's a really hard habit to break, but she doesn't talk to us like we're still five years old, so it's only fair.

Anyway, her apartment in the Village was this totally old New York place with a bathtub in the kitchen. Because at some point in the history of NYC, this was considered a reasonable thing to do. Now, I'm jaded about crazy New York apartments, but as a kid? Mind. blown.

She told me recently that one time (possibly on the same visit), my Dad banged on a fire hydrant on the street to get her attention. Maybe the buzzer was broken. Maybe it was a walkup and he was trying to avoid the walk up. I dunno. My Dad makes about as much sense as New York real estate.

Now Norma is all plugged in with an iPad, hanging out on Facebook and playing her games. She saw a FB post of mine about Broadchurch, and asked where she could see it (since the BBC America run had just ended). She then power watched it in a day. 

Because this is the world we live in now. You get all excited about a murder mystery starring that bloke who used to play Doctor Who and then you turn your former Kindergarten teacher onto it. Who can then watch it online legally. 

Because we are living in the future.

You can steal me and use me as your own

6 comments:

  1. Staying in touch with teachers is such a great thing! And I love those memories you have of her. Especially that kitchen tub!!!

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    1. My mom used to teach junior high (just retired) and her students are always stopping by the house to say hi. Some even checked on her during the Hurricane Sandy aftermath.

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  2. I have one former teacher on Facebook and it feels a little odd. No others though. I do socialize with a few, though.

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    1. I think it depends on the specific teacher, and how long you've been out of their class. There are quite a few teachers who I wish I could track down one way or another. Dunno if I'd want daily contact with them all, though.

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  3. I am totally Facebook friends with the child psychologist I saw when I was a little kid and a handful of teachers I had in high school. I always thought it was kind of weird to think about them eating lunch and having lives of their own when I was a kid, but now it's somehow weirder that I can see that they like LOLcats memes as much as I do.

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    1. I know right? Like, are Kindergarten teachers supposed to like murder mystery TV shows? Or is it OK if they're British shows because that means they're fancy?

      For whatever reason, I was sent to see the school counselor as a kid, but she was a nun and I had no idea why I was there, so I was totally scared and lied that I was shaking because I was cold. Never saw her again - no idea if it was because she figured I had nun-phobia and would never talk to her, or because she decided I was totes sane.

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