Second Chance to Get it Right

I couldn’t possibly calculate the odds. It was my first trip to the airport in over a year, you see. And my hometown is at least 2,500 miles away. I can’t even imagine how many different train cars park at Terminal E throughout the day. And then, of course, there is the fact that there are so many different terminals in the first place.

Regardless, there she was. Wearing both a mask and a shield, head covered and draped in heavy travel gear. And even though my brain couldn’t calculate how it was possible, and all I could truly see were her eyes, I knew exactly who she was. Over 20 years later, and from 2,500 miles away.

I stared, and I stared, and then I spoke-

“Excuse me . . . Is your name Naomi?”

And then her eyes crinkled in the corners. I knew she was smiling; I was too.

Naomi Washington was my high school dance teacher. To meet required P.E. credits, I signed up for her class three years in a row. The time I spent in her class was the absolute best part of my week. I enjoyed West African dance so much that I began taking weekend classes and attended weeklong dance retreats during the summers. Eventually I was asked to join a professional dance troupe as an apprentice. But it all started with Naomi. In her class I found a passion, a freedom of movement and expression that didn’t exist anywhere else. Naomi shared the origins of the different dances we learned, so we understood that dance was not just movement, but also about communication, and culture and community. Dancing filled me with joy.

I leaned in closer, no longer the expected six feet away. I raised my voice over the rumble of the train advancing down the tracks. I wanted her to hear me. This conversation was 20 years overdue.

For a short train ride and a stint up the escalator I shared with my old dance teacher how much she meant to me, how much I appreciated her, and how grateful I was to have been in her class. I said to her what I should have said at 17, but didn’t. Naomi Washington helped me be a better me.

We parted ways at the top of the escalator, heart full and happy. I won’t always be lucky enough to get a “redo”, so instead, I must be intentional. I hope you will too.

During this month, Teacher Appreciation Month, I hope you will take the time to seek out and thank a meaningful educator in your life. Write a note, send a message, tag and tweet. This is our time to give back to those who gave us so much.

Happy **Teacher Appreciation Week** to educators everywhere. <3