I’d love you to meet my high school English teacher, Reeny Georgie – a woman of exemplary grace, calm, poise & elegance. Today, 30 years later, our relationship has evolved from that of a teacher & her student, to a cherished friendship as two adult women navigating life on our own terms. Here’s a story you would want to hear… more so, because it is a story that I want to share with you all.
I met Miss Reeny – the erstwhile convent way of addressing our teachers – in September 1993 as I entered Grade 11 just after the Gulf War in Kuwait. She taught me English in Grade 11 & 12 and was also our class teacher in the final school year. We took the same school bus – me with my siblings, she with her three young children. While her oldest was my sister’s classmate, the youngest was a kindergartener with whom I used to have the most amazing chats possible! Almost a decade between us, that little fella was the first one to excitedly call me, ‘Dude!’
It must come as little surprise that Miss Reeny was one of my favorite teachers – English being one of my favorite subjects! But I really did enjoy English. I would love it when it was my turn to read out loud and still remember being choked with emotion as I was passionately emoting the part of ‘Nearer My God To Thee’ in our English reader as we studied a text on ‘The Titanic’. We spoke about it on our way back home that afternoon. I didn’t think much about it back then, but today I recognize it as a very meaningful exchange – I was all of 16 and discussing ‘life’ and ’emotions’ with my English teacher who somehow seemed to get me and didn’t infantilize my thoughts.
Anyway, Miss Reeny had this look about her that captivated me from the first time I saw her. Her calm and gentle mannerism alongside her very intense, intuitive and contemplative gaze was simply fascinating! I had been in that school since kindergarten but she was different and unlike many of the other teachers. She came across has someone who did her own thing and didn’t have much time for riff-raff. I have no idea what happened in the Staff Room, but she appeared to be ‘different’. In my view, I liked her and I got along well with her. I didn’t really know what she saw in me. To be honest, I didn’t think teachers did that with their students at all – ‘see’ them beyond school work, that is!
Over the years, however, Miss Reeny & I, we stayed in touch. I would visit school every time I visited Kuwait and enjoy sharing my stories with her. Later, social media made it easier to stay connected and we would interact more frequently over each other’s photographs, milestones and life events.
In recent years, however, especially over the past 7-8 years, Miss Reeny and I got very close. Our relationship has shifted markedly to one of maturity and womanhood – empathy and spiritual exchange. Words truly fall short when I try to explain the kind of relationship I have with her today.
Our conversations revolved around books, feminism, life, parenting and caregiving. We talk about our spiritual outlook to life and philosophical sustenance is something we seem to bring to the table together. We share snippets of our experiences as mothers and daughters. And, most importantly, we have somehow created a sacred space of openness and vulnerability for both of us that I have with very few others in my adult life. She is always one of the first to applaud my achievements and right there in my chatbox if she senses that my posts are taking a turn towards dark humor insinuating an underlying crisis.
Would it suffice to say that she has seen me at my lowest and has still cheered me on endlessly? She has popped into my messenger numerous times to remind me that she is waiting for me at the finish line, cheering me on to keep going. No, it wouldn’t suffice to just say that… Because while she cheers me on and we talk about all sorts of things under the sun, I also know that she is one of the rare folks with the emotional intelligence and capacity to hear me out, hold space for me and still soothe me when I try to make sense of this crazy thing called life.
She is one of the first people who come to my mind when I have to share important news – be it on matters of love, loss or heartbreak. And I know when I share, I will be met with confidence and absolutely no judgement. Sometimes, I just rant because, well, an English teacher can read through – and she doesn’t make a fuss with typos & grammar either. 🙂
Miss Reeny is one of the very few people who has known me for the past 30 years and seen me grow from a teenager to the adult woman I am today. When I read her messages to me, especially on days that I wish for some tender gooey loving comfort, I feel seen and heard and known and understood. She is also the only teacher, who calls me Luvi after I left school. Who wouldn’t want to be cared for?
This is something she sent me a few days back in response to a very challenging experience that I had shared with her:
Imagine that! Someone, who isn’t my parent, who saw me when I was 15 or 16 and recognized me in a way that even I didn’t see myself. I didn’t even know I was half those things – but she did.
Where does childhood end and adulthood commence? When do we pause to see ourselves as who we are becoming? And when do we even pause to see someone else become the best version of themselves possible? And do we even take the time out to tell them?
My conversation with Miss Reeny a few days back was wholesome. I needed a loving voice to remind me that I was walking an insanely painful path as best as I could. She showed up for me with all her kindness and warmth and just reminded me of the goodness that existed – both in & around me – through my children, partner and even my friends – some of whom she knows from school.
I write today, with utmost candor, that relationships are complex. And people judge. Yet, there are those amongst us who recognize the complexities of life and challenges and step in to be a little pinkie finger that you can hold on to and navigate the next foothold.
We finish school and get on to building careers and raising families – sometimes we remember our teachers for different reasons. Sometimes, our teachers remain with us – not to teach us anything more academic, but to remind us that we walk in life together. That our joys, and our pain, are shared. That a bond between a teacher and her student, need not be just that – but one of genuine care, concern, and love.
It isn’t maternal, or sisterly; nor is it just womanhood or simply human. It is something else altogether. And I will stop analyzing it.
Thank you for allowing me to share Miss Reeny with you all… because for everything that she does and for all the ways she reaches out to me, she is super special…
Luvena's World 