All kidding aside, it started me thinking about the many teachers that my children are learning from. There are the obvious ones, the ones who teach gymnastics class or summer camp. But I’m also thinking of the woman in line at Walgreens who engaged my first-grader in a discussion about healthy desserts. The Squirrel Lady at Lady Bird Lake who showed my kids how to feed the bushy-tailed critters. The cashier at Whole Foods who let my daughter bag our groceries.
Not all teachers impart such feel-good lessons, though. The girls at the playground who tried to scare my 7-year-old with stories of monsters in the trees. The woman who yelled at us because we were collecting petals that had fallen on her lawn. The family members who don’t show up when they say they will. But no matter who they are, every person my kids meet is a teacher, if they are willing to accept the lesson.
And these are my teachers, too, of course. And I mustn’t forget two of my greatest teachers, who have taught me more about love, perseverance, exasperation and living in the moment than anyone else: my daughters. If only all my teachers came in such a sweet package.