41. Dear primary school teacher

Dear primary school teacher,

When I see you in public I can’t help but sit up straight and look enthused at whatever is happening in case your glance meets mine. I want you to believe I turned out great and am still the well-mannered, attentive kid I was in 2009.

Maybe I should probably be slouching, attempting to elude your gaze and the subsequent small talk about what’s new in our distant lives. “So Lottie” you’d begin, “what are you doing with yourself these days?”. Great question, teacher who gave me the nickname “Lottie” in the first place. Well, I am generally happy-go-lucky and still watch High School Musical on the weekends. It’s almost guaranteed I’ll be reminded of you when I write on lined paper, connecting the double s’s in cursive as you did in words like “glasses” and “necessary”. You’d think after 16 years I would be able to shake your voice from my head.

I’ve recently found myself thinking about the last version of me you knew. I reflect on the younger version of myself in class who barely said a peep. I cringe at the thought of my goody-two-shoes behaviour and my wonky, still-growing teeth. Now I’m considered the chatterbox of the office, I like to colour outside the lines and I had Invisalign. I wonder if you know you were a key catalyst in my crawling out of the shell I kept myself in.

Perhaps I just think about my previous teachers more than the average adult, let alone see you in my dreams. Your appearances as a side character in my are bizarre, I guess my seeking academic validation behaviours still clearly rule my subconscious.

Maybe this isn’t common at all. It could be plain weird that I mention you when I tell people I used to be shy. How I describe the warm environment you created within the classroom, that I felt like I had 25 new friendships to foster, with people who liked me for who I was. My nervous energy no longer stopped me from telling the whole class unsolicited fun facts and birthdays of celebrities and I’m sure you’re day was made on September 28th when you found out it was Hilary Duff’s 23rd birthday.

Once a nine-year-old who was finding her feet, I’m now a 24-year-old who just wants to say thank you. May this closure keep you out of my dreams… thanks.

With awkwardness and gratitude,

Lottie.