Mrs. Trapini

One of the best teachers I ever had was my first grade teacher, Mrs. Trapini. I had mentioned my Grandma Haskell's death a few posts ago. The weekend after it happened, I went back to school confused and lonely and hadn't really spoken much since I was told. I got to school and my best friend at the time made some shitty remark about how crappy I looked (because I was sad, not because I was wearing my Garfield nightgown to school again) and I snapped. My pigtails flipping back and forth, "Shut up! I don't want to talk to you ever again!" Then I started crying in a corner.

She ran to our teacher. "Something's wrong with Tammy!" Fucking tattletale.

Mrs. Trapini came over to me immediately. She wasn't the smallest woman but I had never known her to raise her voice once. She always wore jumpers and flats and her dark hair was never longer than her ears. We had two first grade teachers and I remember how jealous the other students were that they didn't have her for a teacher. She did fun things such as when she'd turn out the lights and we'd shine flashlights while we played musical chairs. She'd bring in pets. She even took us outside on the lawn when it was nice out to do our math work. But that day that I came in and had my first (of many) mental breakdowns, she did the best thing she'd ever done.

I explained to her what had happened, how I didn't know if my Grandma Haskell was coming back and didn't understand why she hadn't said goodbye. She gave me the greatest hug, back when teachers could touch their students without question. Then, like a rock star, she called down to the library on the in-room phone for a book. She gathered the class in a circle and threw out the curriculum for that morning. When I went to sit down, she told me my seat was on her lap. A helper from the library came in and delivered a book to Mrs. Trapini. And she sat down, I perched on her lap like a princess, my classmates looking on in wonder and she started the story.

It was about a little boy that loved his puppy more than anything in the world. The little boy didn't think he'd ever be without his little dog. And then the dog was hit by a car (or something else had caused it's death) and how sad the boy felt and that it was okay. The story went on to explain how the little puppy would always be with the little boy, even if the puppy wasn't alive anymore.

I don't remember much about my childhood. But I remember that day like it just happened last week. It meant so much to me that she took the time out of our day to explain to me what death really meant when no one else would. I wasn't scared anymore. I didn't cry the rest of the day. And my friend and I played at recess.