On my way in to work today, I stopped at Town Car Repair, just a block from the school, to drop off my car for an oil change. I was hoping to see the man who runs the place, with his easy laugh and lighthearted questions about how teachers put up with all the nonsense kids get up to. He was nowhere in sight, and after a few minutes, the mechanic emerged from the shop and helped me.
After looking at the previous oil change sticker they adhered to my windshield about a year ago, he kindly passed on some friendly advice in his thick Korean accent: don’t pay attention to the mileage; just come in every three months like clockwork, and you’ll never have anything to worry about. After he took my key, he called out the door after me, “Every three months,” with a laugh. I held up three fingers and smiled hard through my mask.
As I walked out the building at the end of the work day, I was temporarily disoriented by all the people. Teachers shuttled students to buses and to parents standing in loose clumps, as the elementary school across the walk was letting out on their second day of school. I felt for a moment that we were all just now emerging from hibernation; our eyes crinkled with tentative smiles as we squinted in the early spring sun, full of cautious hope.
I made my way back to the auto shop, and there he was! My guy! He saw the badge I still wore around my neck and exclaimed, “Is this my first teacher back?!”
“That’s right,” I said.
“This calls for a celebration! You all are finally back!”
I stayed for a few minutes and chatted with him about his efforts to get his kids out of bed in time to log in to classes and my efforts to keep students engaged when I can’t see their faces. A young woman who works at an alternative school in DC was also in the waiting room and recounted her utter frustration with a student who didn’t even have the decency to mute himself when playing “Call of Duty” during class. We shook our heads and clucked our tongues, agreeing that we so desperately need to get back to normal.
As he handed back my credit card, we bumped fists and wished each other well. It’s good to be back.
My Corner of the Village 