Visible Echoes

Amidst the trials, tribulations and triumphs of the teaching profession is the pleasure of bumping into former students, parents, teachers out in the world. (Well, most of them. There are no students I can think of who would make me cross to the other side of the street if I saw them coming, but yes, there are a few parents. You know who you are.)

But living in San Francisco, barely a month goes by where I don’t see these alum folks at the store or the concert or out walking in the park and the past few weeks have been especially remarkable. I saw four alum parents at an event celebrating the Margaret Jenkins 50^th Anniversary of her work as a dance choreographer and another three the night before at a Community Orchestra fundraiser, along with one student, now 54, who I hadn’t seen since he was in 4^thgrade! (And extraordinary that he recognized me!) I saw my school’s front desk person from years back working at Trader Joe’s, had two parents stop their car to talk when they spotted me on the street, ran into an alum student at the park where I was playing one of their outdoor pianos. I saw four alums at two different concerts in which they were performing, ran into another at Tartinne Bakery. And so on. 

Exchanges are usually brief, but warm. If an alum parent, it often begins, “What is your kid up to?” and then, almost as an afterthought, “And how are you?” If it’s a kid (still using that word, even if they’re 54!), it’s reversed— “What are you up to?” and then “How are your folks?” I always tell a story, whether directly to the kid or the parent, of some small or big moment we’ve had together and that’s fun. These days, I insist on a selfie and when I have some leisure time (and just when will that be?), hope to gather the photos from the past couple of years into a slide show. I had a meeting last year with the SF School admin and they hinted that I could be the Alum Representative. Because of my longevity at school, my memory for people and our accompanying stories and the fact that I  genuinely enjoy seeing them, it’s the perfect role for me. But typical of my school, there’s no official job definition or acknowledged title. Oh well.

Every time I run into someone, it’s like a tangible, visible and visceral echo of a special time we shared together. Not a wistful recall of “the good old days” trying to recapture sorely missing from our lives now (though certainly some of that!), but a mutual acknowledgement that we were there together. We did this and it mattered. And here we still are. As my Mom liked to say, “Imagine that!”

I wonder who I’ll bump into today.