Dear Mr. Cole,

I have thought about writing this letter so many times. Hundreds of times, in fact. However, something always comes up. Life got in the way of me doing something I should have done 20 years ago.

It is long past time that I thanked you for being a great teacher. It is hard to believe it has been more than two decades since I was a junior in high school and sat in your American Studies class.

My mom and step-father has just gotten divorced, I was working long hours after school and staying up late to do homework. My life was in turmoil and by the time I sat down in your class in the late afternoon, I was exhausted. I remember falling asleep at my desk almost every day. I was struggling.

My other teachers didn’t notice; or didn’t care to. You did. One day, you returned one of my papers with a hand-written note…I know you’re going through a rough time, but college is not that far away and you need to start thinking about your future. I know you comprehend what I’m saying. You’re smart and you write well. Don’t blow it.

Knowing that someone cared and that someone believed in me, at that point in time, was life-altering; possibly life-saving. Thank you for that. I knew that if I really needed to reach out to someone, you would be there.

Thank you for your knowledge and your kindness. Thank you for teaching me the beauty of the written word, for sharing your faith and for reaching out to a slacking student.

Thank you for being the best teacher I ever had.

Sincerely,

Diane

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I was in the kitchen the other day when my seven year old son yelled to me from the living room, “Hey, Mom! Can I watch Cars?”

I replied, “No, you watched it on Sunday and again on Monday. Why don’t you read a book instead?”

And, apparently he didn’t like my response because then he yelled, “Ugh! Don’t answer my questions ever again!”

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My seven year old son was playing around at bedtime recently, when I heard my husband yell up to him, “Quit goofing off and go night-night!”

I stopped what I was doing and took note of the moment, because I was certain that my husband hadn’t said, “night-night” in years and that it would likely be the last time he uttered those words with one of our kids.

I suddenly wondered; when did we stop saying that? Words like night-night, binky and blankie are now but distant memories.

When did my son stop calling me, “Mama” and start calling me “Mommy”? When did my daughter stop calling me “Mommy” and start calling me “Mom”? And, when did she stop calling me “Mom” and start calling me “Hmmph” with an accompanying eye-roll?

These moments fly by, as much of life does, without us even taking notice. I, for one, am too busy cleaning the kitchen or picking up dirty socks to document anything but the big stuff.

I have photos of pre-school graduations and videos of talent shows. I have programs from Christmas plays and boxes full of artwork but, how are you supposed to note the last time your child referred to the dog as a “doggie”?

Hearing my husband call up to our son made me aware that those moments had passed us by. One minute my daughter was eating jars of food she called “num-num” and the next she’s bringing home division-of-decimals-by-whole-numbers homework.

And if there’s anything that makes you wish your kids were still saying things like “night-night”, it’s that.

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My son came home from school today and as we reviewed some first grade papers I said, “Tell me about your day, buddy. What did everyone bring for show and tell?”

He replied, “Well, some people brought stuffed dogs, and a kid brought Lightning McQueen and one girl brought a doll.”

“Wow. That sounds like some cool stuff. What else did people share?”

He jumped with excitement, “Oh! One kid brought a great, big yogurt!”

“A big yogurt?”

“Yeah! Its name was Shrek.”

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