What I have always wanted to say to my teacher

This is a twist on Wednesday’s post on Arden’s Day, where Scott B. asks “What have you always wanted to say to your child’s teacher”.

I don’t have a response to that question, but I do have something to say from a different perspective —

Sometime between May of 1981 (when I was diagnosed) and June of 1983 (when I moved on to another school), there is a vivid image burned in my mind. One of the Phys Ed teachers at Mill Lake School (we’ll call her Ms. S) was on-duty to watch the kids outside during recess. I remember the time when she was running from the playground to the school cradling my limp, semi-unresponsive body in her arms. I don’t remember collapsing to the ground with a low blood sugar before she picked me up, nor do I remember the school nurse squirting glucose gel in my mouth once we got inside of the building.  But I do remember that sprint across the blacktop as she looked at me with that very concerned look on her face.

I suspect that the image remains in her mind as well, even thirty years later.

So Ms. S, wherever you are, I’d like to pass along the message that I remember that moment, that I’m doing fine, and that I’m sorry to have scared you. And Thank You.