One of the most traumatic days of my life occurred when I was five. I lined up with the rest of my class on the kindergarten playground, but my teacher was not there.
We had a substitute.
And I did the only thing I knew to do. I refused to go with a stranger.
As I sat in the principal’s office and she tried to convince me it was safe to go to class and that my teacher would be back the next day I became inconsolable. I believed my teacher would never come back.
Finally the principal called my eldest brother to the office. With all of his fourth grade wisdom he explained the concept of a substitute teacher. He promised he’d had them, and his teachers always came back; mine would too. He hugged me. He sat with me.
I was unswayed. I spent the day in the office.
Sometimes even the words of my brothers weren’t enough to assuage my stubborn fears.
This post is part of the 31 Days: Family series. Read the beginning, and see a full index of posts, here.