When I was ten, my family moved from the west coast of the US to New England. We moved halfway through the school year. I was a shy, anxious kid. I was terrified of the move. Before we moved, I only really had one friend, and other than her, my only friends were my siblings.

We moved at the start of the school’s February break so that we could buy new school supplies and get settled in before we had to go to school. In our new town, fifth grade was the first year of middle school. I wasn’t used to having different classes with different teachers and all of that. My homeroom teacher tried to get one of the kids to show me around, but she immediately abandoned me, and I was too shy to tell the teacher that I needed help. My classes were welcoming, but they were also in full swing, and there wasn’t really any time to get to know anyone. I sat alone every day at lunch. In science class, my most social class, the other kids in my lab group were already friends and just spent the whole time talking to each other and never to me.

By my second week there, I’d given up on making friends at school. My parents signed me up for the activities I did in my old town, and I hoped that I’d be able to make a friend through those.

I was sitting in history class in the afternoon when a kid really had to go to the bathroom. He rushed past me and bumped into me hard, in a way that knocked my glasses off my face. He turned around to apologize and ended up stepping on them multiple times accidentally. (I heard about that part later; I couldn’t see anything.) My glasses were messed up, broken in two with a cracked lens. I’ve needed glasses since I was four, and my eyesight got worse every year as a kid. By the time I was ten, anything more than a few inches away was too blurry to make out any details without my glasses. So, the fact that my glasses were broken was bad news.

I started crying. The class was starting to crowd around me. I heard later that the teacher barely knew what to do. Then, I heard a voice say:

Girl: “Okay, I’ll take her to the nurse’s office.” *To me* “Can you see anything?”

I shook my head, so this girl took me by the arm and slowly walked me down the halls to the nurse’s office. I was still crying. She decided to start talking to me to keep my mind off things. I gave one-word answers or shook my head because I was still quite upset, but I slowly started to talk more and more, and soon, we were having a full conversation.

We got to the nurse’s office. The nurse called my dad, and the girl decided to stay with me until my dad came. My dad took me home, where I had spare glasses. They were an old prescription, so I had some trouble seeing stuff, but at least I could see more than an inch from my face. My parents ordered new glasses, which we got about two weeks later.

I felt humiliated. When I came back to school the next day, I was sure that people would be laughing at me, but in reality, no one was paying any attention to me as usual.

At lunch, I was waved over by a girl I’d never seen before, but I quickly realized it was the girl who had walked me to the nurse’s office. She was sitting with four other kids whom she introduced me to, and we quickly became very close friends for the rest of middle and high school. I’m still good friends with them today, and I’m dating one of their brothers.

Throughout my life, whenever I’m in a tough spot, I remind myself of this story and how even though something seems bad, good things can and will come from it.

I’m a middle school teacher. I work hard at it, and it mostly pays off; I have great relationships with most of my students. I also try to get along with their parents, but that part isn’t always as easy, especially since I’m a large man with a full beard and mustache, kind of like a stereotypical biker beard. Parents don’t always give guys like me the benefit of the doubt around kids.

I stop for gas one day during summer break, and while I’m filling up, another car pulls up at the next pump. After the car stops and a woman gets out to start pumping gas, one of the back windows rolls down, and a recent female student of mine pops her head out of the window. I also recognize some of the other kids in the car as her cousins. They go to the same school, but they’re younger than the grade I teach, so I don’t know their parents.

Student: “Hi, Mr. [My Name]!”

Me: “Hey, [Student]. Having a good summer?”

Student: “Yeah, we’re going to the beach!”

Me: “That sounds fun!”

At this point, the woman pumping gas notices our conversation.

Woman: “Who are you?”

Me: “I’m Mr. [My Name], [Student]’s teacher at school last year. You must be her aunt, [Other Students]’ mom?”

Woman: “Yes, and I suggest you focus on getting gas and not watching [Student]. She’s only thirteen.”

Me: “I’m aware. I was her teacher last year, so I was just saying hi. I apologize for any confusion.”

Woman: “Well, you may be her teacher in school, but that doesn’t mean you have to follow her all summer, too, does it?”

I recognized at this point that I wasn’t going to “win” anything, so I didn’t even try to argue the fact that SHE had pulled in after me, so how could I be FOLLOWING them? I simply turned around and focused on my own car.

When I got home that night, I sent a quick email to the school principal in case the woman tried to start anything more. The principal assured me that nothing would happen; apparently, this woman was “known to be protective of her kids”. Reading that, I requested that her child — who I recognized would be entering my grade level the next fall — not be placed in my class, and the principal agreed that that was a good idea.

My cousin’s kid is playing baseball against a rival school. It’s the final game of the year, so I came to support him.

Cousin: “Here. I got you some food.”

She hands me a hot dog, but it’s wrapped up in flatbread instead of in a bun.

Me: “Is this… garlic naan?”

Cousin: “Yeah, it’s traditional. ‘Cause of the mascot.”

Me: “Huh? I thought the mascot was just a tiger.”

Cousin: “It is now, but… for a long time, before anyone worried about that kind of thing, the mascot was the Indian Chief. Some kid would wear a fake war bonnet and dance around with a bow and arrow and all that. Then, one day, someone from [Native American Tribe] pointed out that this was kind of offensive, and also all the traditions were wrong, so we stopped.”

Me: “So, is the bread just a pun?”

Cousin: “No, that came after. They had a big meeting about the new mascot, and they’d already made this big display where the cheerleaders would carry around giant letters that spelled out ‘INDIAN CHIEF’. So, in this meeting, the owner of the local curry takeout place said, ‘I’ve got the solution: my restaurant sponsors your team, and all you need to do is throw away the I in “chief”.’”

Me: “So… why the tigers?”

Cousin: “The [County] school board got upset because people were more excited about the food than the game. So, the restaurant owner said, ‘To heck with it; let’s do tiger habitat awareness instead.’”

One class has collectively decided to rescue a small colony of guinea pigs that need a new home. They’re not my students, but choosing names has become a schoolwide discussion.

Teacher: “Hey, did you hear that they finally named the guinea pigs?”

She shows me a printout of each guinea pig with a nametag.

Teacher: “Meet Jeremy, Little [Principal], Potato, Elizabeth Bennet, and McDonnell Douglas F-15E Strike Eagle.”

Me: “Uh… did [Principal] okay that?”

Teacher: “Yeah, she’s fine with it.”

Me: “And you know my second question, right?”

Teacher: “Yeah… Okay, so, the deal was that if they all got 95% or higher on the final last semester, they could replace a lecture with any topic. They chose fighter jets.”

Me: “And you did that the same day as name voting?”

Teacher: “I probably should have intervened, but the Elizabeth Bennet block and the Strike Eagle block started negotiating, and we turned it into a hands-on lesson on electoral politics.”

We tried to shorten the guinea pig’s name to “Mac”. The students were NOT having it.

This happened when I was in sixth grade, on the day of a TAKS (Texas Assessment of Knowledge and Skills), basically a large exam of everything you learned in that particular subject that year, which essentially decides if you pass that class. My best friend broke my glasses in half on the way to lunch. No exaggeration, I can’t see clearly a foot in front of me without them. Without glasses, I couldn’t even see the paper to take the test.

During lunch, when we were allowed to use our phones, I texted my mom about it. She said she would pick me up and go get them replaced.

Lunch ended, and we all went back to class to continue taking the TAKS. I just sat there staring at the paper for about half an hour before my mother got there.

The school campus had a different building for each subject, plus a separate office building. The building I was in was next to the office building, but even in a separate building, I could still hear my mother.

Mother: “What do you mean, I can’t take her?! She’s my daughter! I can do whatever I want with her! You can’t just keep her locked up away from me!”

It was silent for a moment while the office person was answering her.

Mother: “I don’t care that she’s taking a test! She can finish it tomorrow! She can’t see to take the test! Her glasses are broken! How can she take a test she can’t see?! Huh?! How?! I’m taking her!”

Then, I was called to the office. At least the class thought it was hilarious.