First Kisses, Green Teachers, and Civility

Living Happy

Photo by Senjuti Kundu on Unsplash

In the fine spirit of procrastination, I have decided to blog about one of my first kisses in an attempt to prove that despite the fact that I am now an old, old woman who no longer wants to wear swimsuits in public, I was once, kissable.

Just kidding! Just kidding! Being kissable has nothing to do with age or swimsuit confidence, I promise.

Anyway, when I was away from home, I was a quiet and watchful little human. And I? I was terrified of preschool.

The teacher, who was really, really nice would dress up like the Wicked Witch from Oz. She'd smear green paint all over her face. She'd attach a plastic nose. She'd wear black robes and her nice, soft voice would turn cackle-mean and loud.

Photo by Kayla Maurais on Unsplash

All the other kids loved it. Our teacher would come in on Fridays or special days in her witch outfit and pulling along her broom. Then she'd take whip cream and spray it at all of us four-year-olds.

All the other kids would scream and giggle and run around in a happy whipped cream frenzy of joy.

All the other kids had a super good time.

Me? I hid under the table with the used tissues and the Crayola crayons.

One time, as my teacher sprayed and cackled and pranced around in her striped-socks, I just couldn't handle it any longer and I ran away.

I was barely four, and I slunk past the whipped cream frolicking and out the door, raced past the llamas and sheep in the petting zoo. I thought of freeing them, but I worried about them getting hit by cars.

I took off as fast as my pudgy four-year-old legs could carry me and made it about a mile down the road before a mom driving by saw me, and brought me back to the nursery school.

The teacher was not happy with me. At all.

"Why did you run away?" she asked.

I said something like, "Because you're a witch and I was scared."

She squatted down. Her makeup had been wiped off and the stress of trying to find a missing me showed on her face. Some green stuck to the crinkles by her eyes. "You know that's just me there, under the make-up, don't you?"

I nodded.

That's what made it so scary. It was scary that people weren't always who I thought they were, that my lollipop sweet teacher could be an evil witch.

I wanted to put in an AI image here and mostly because I think AI is still so unsettling partially because it’s almost right. But then something gives it away, like her fingers. And that sort of fits with the theme of what I’m talking about.

Here’s the thing that we all know as adults: Sometimes people aren’t who you expect. Sometimes they have other dimensions. Sometimes they do things that make us go, “What the what?”

Sometimes that happens in a house or a relationship or a community, too. People you think are pretty amazing all the time, might turn out to not be amazing all the time. That’s because they’re human. Even witches are human. When you report on a community, you see this over and over again.

Anyway, I spent the next week in nursery school disgrace, under very watchful eyes since I was now a ‘runner,’ and then Jason Lakis came over to my house to play. He was my nursery school love. He had these cute plaid pants and dark, dark hair and his other best friend Eric Gilliland of the red hair, was my other secret crush.

Jason and I wallowed in a mud puddle in my backyard. When they saw our filthy, happy selves, his mom and my mom gasped and shoved us in the bath tub. Then they went in the other room to drink some more iced coffee and talk about things that were terribly boring like cards, men, town politics, and if a certain lady in the town office was a meanie face on purpose.

Anyway, in the tub, Jason looked at me from across the bubbles and said, "It's okay that you were scared."

I knew exactly what he was talking about. He was talking about when I ran away because our teacher wasn’t being herself.

I stared into the bubbles. I made my toy Sesame Street boat sink to the bottom of the tubby. Jason scooted closer to me and kissed me on the lips. I think I kissed him back. I know that I giggled. Then he giggled. Then we threw bubbles at each other. And life? It was pretty good right then. My big embarrassment and moment of run-away-naughtiness led me to this: a first kiss and a friendship of awesome.

Jason Lakis went through a big heavy metal phase in high school. He’s still a musician, and I'm sure he's still a nice guy. He probably laughs now instead of giggling, but whatever. The thing is that the Jason of Now has a million aspects about him that I’ll never know—just like my teacher. Just like all the people I love and respect. But he gave me a couple of things then: kindness and understanding. Whatever happened after that moment doesn’t take that moment away.

A long time ago, Samuel Johnson said, "When once the forms of civility are violated, there remains little hope of return to kindness or decency."

That’s a little too pessimistic for me. Civility, much like empathy, lawfulness, kindness, respect, can be built. It can be taught. It can be learned. It can be emphasized. My teacher went out of her way to make me feel safe after the run-away-witches-are-scary event. And I went out of my way to trust her, too.

People who do bad things—much worse things than that—can find their way back to goodness. Communities that like to live in sound bites and polarities about right and wrong? They can, too.

There is nuance under everything. Even people. And there is hope, too. Hope for change. Hope for forgiveness. Hope for something better, kinder, even when it feels like everything is moving us toward hate, division, war, and oppression. I have to believe that. Maybe you do, too?

Here's Jason’s band's website.

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