The Nostalgia of Passing Time

What is time but a precious valuable whose availability is limited for everyone. Some try to capture it with numbers or to help track their accomplishments. For me, time is more than a number to record my progress on a spectrum, defining me over the months and years that have gone past.

It’s about special moments and experiences that can’t be re-lived. It’s why the thought of the invention of a time machine has always fascinated me. It would give people a second chance to live again and experience those moments a second time or maybe just to remain in that special period forever.

For me, traveling back to the 6th grade and Mr. Henderson’s ESL class would fulfill that desire to remain in the happiest of times. I wouldn’t necessarily call it a perfect year for myself, though surely it wasn’t a bad year, but looking back, I view it as the year when I finally grew as a better person and learned a lot about the importance of friendships. 

At the start of the school year, I was an immature young girl who had just entered middle school. And just like the others, I was desperate to follow the latest trends in our school and imitate the way the popular girls acted, causing me to lose my own individuality. I would post the same stories on social platforms as the popular kids - taking a selfie on the beach, shopping at the mall - and wear the same clothes; even have the same snobby attitude towards others. Thankfully, this was all about to change. Through the course of the year, I met my life-changing mentor, an English teacher I’ll call Mr. Henderson. He taught me more than pure subject matter, encouraging me to speak up during class and to view the world in a more independent way.

On the first day of school, his easy going personality immediately attracted me and distinguished him from all the other teachers. Though my English grammar and language skills weren't that strong during that time and I was taking English as a Second Language, he saw my full potential and believed in me. He would stay behind with me after classes ended to work with flashcards or play fun brain-teasing games like the online challenge,  Kahoot! His calming personality and demeanor helped me to feel more confident about learning this new language and to contribute during class. During the fall semester, we read A Midsummer Night's Dream by Shakespeare, and with his encouragement, I was able to step out of my comfort zone to present the play to the class with a few of my classmates. 

Though at the beginning of the semester, he gave a substantial amount of homework, even more so than most other classes, I navigated my way through the course with his help and began to actually enjoy English as a language.  Feeling more self-confident, I began to realize that there was no joy in copying the negative traits of the popular kids. I instead began to look around for positive traits to emulate from other people, those whom I hadn’t taken the opportunity to converse with on a daily basis. During the year, I gradually became more insightful and learned from others around me - our shared merits as well as our flaws. As a result, I also became a more compassionate person with a willingness to help others.

While there are so many positive recollections of that special 6th grade term where I made great strides in becoming a better person, the year ended with a sadness inside me. 

Mr. Henderson called me aside at the end of the school year with a special message.

“Congratulations Esther,’’ he began. “You’ve done so well during ESL, that I believe you are ready for the next step, to the regular English classes with others in your grade. So next year you’ll be moving on to those classes.’’

“But, but … ’’ I found myself stammering. “I enjoy your class, Mr. Henderson. I’d rather stay here.’’ 

“I understand Esther, and I will miss you in class as well,’’ he replied. “But you’re ready for that next step and we wouldn’t want to hold you back. You can come visit my class any time and I hope you’ll stop in so we can catch up on how things are going.’’

I made a Good-bye card for him and asked all the others in the class to sign it. We had all grown close to each other as well under Mr. Henderson’s encouragement and guidance.

I didn’t realize it would be the last time I would have him as a teacher. I returned to the same classroom the next year, but it was no longer Mr. Henderson’s. The layout was exactly the same - neat rows of desks, one behind the other, with the teacher’s desk up front, and a few red sofas where students could lounge. But it was a different teacher and the feelings I had for the room weren’t the same.

If a time machine was ever invented, I’d take it back directly to that same classroom, but with Mr. Henderson back at the head. As it is now, I rely on memories of that to bring me back to that special time and place where Mr. Henderson and my classmates can always be found, unchanged, just as we were then.