I'm going going, back back, to...

...Rowan Elementary?

That's right. After 18 years, I stepped on the familiar territory of the elementary school I attended as a child. I accompanied my mother to my first alma mater where she drops and picks up the neighbor's daughter. My purpose: to say hello to my former second grade teacher, Mrs. Valido.

Rowan Elementary

I first met Mrs. Valido in 1989 as Mrs. Abbasi. I remember her well because she had a unique name. She was young and I was glad to be in her classroom because it wasn't a combination class like I had been a part of the previous school year.

I enjoyed watching her interacting with the teacher next door. They seemed to be very good friends. I remember a particular incident when Mrs. Abbasi asked the other teacher if she noticed something different about her. Her friend couldn't figure it out. Mrs. Abbasi gave up and finally told her that her braces had been removed. I felt bad because I hadn't noticed either. In 1990, Mrs. Abbasi changed her name to Mrs. Valido with no explanation to us kids. I don't recall anyone questioning her about it either because we loved her for her, not her name.

A day before the school's traditional Cinco de Mayo celebration, she told me to ask my mom if she would french braid her hair for the occasion; my mom always braided my hair which Mrs. Valido had become a fan of. I related the message to my mother but she didn't take it seriously. Mrs. Valido was waiting anxiously for my mom to do her hair when she dropped me off in class the day of the event.

I was Mrs. Valido's personal helper sometimes. There was one occasion when I let her down. She asked me to color a page with a bear under a sky with a few puffy clouds hovering above. I think she was going to use it as a certificate after she added fancy lettering like many teachers did in the 90s. I was filling in the second cloud with a light shade of blue when Mrs. Valido stopped me. She told me that clouds weren't blue but white. I knew this but opted for the blue clouds because it was easier to color them instead of half the page that made up the sky. She asked the other kids what they thought but none of them seemed to have noticed my mistake so she allowed me to continue. I learned a very valuable lesson that day: never color clouds blue.

My favorite memory of second grade was the autograph book. Mrs. Valido taught us how to make it from scratch at the end of the school year. I didn't understand the purpose until my classmates started writing notes but enjoyed the process nonetheless. I loved it and expected to have a keepsake every year after that but the other teachers never bothered. 

Me in 1990. Don't ever braid your daughter's hair the night before picture day.

Mrs. Valido in 1990

I befriended Mrs. Valido on Facebook a few years back. I sent her a note just in case she didn't recognize my profile picture and to my surprise, she knew exactly who I was. I took the liberty to ask about  the name change and she explained her reasoning, twenty-two years later (Personal details. You understand, right?). That's when I also found out that we share the same birthday! She invited me to come to her class but I never made the time. It wasn't until my mom bumped into her when she picked up the neighbor about a month ago that Mrs. Valido requested my visit "or else." Since I was spending the week with my parents, I knew the time had come for me to go back. 

I drive by Rowan Avenue at least twice a month en route to my parent's house. It looks exactly the same except for a recent paint job. The two playgrounds still house the same equipment--basketball courts, tether balls, volleyball nets, handball walls, and the collapsing wooden storage for the balls, jump ropes, chinese jump ropes, and bean bags. But I hadn't stepped inside the structure since my sixth grade ceremony in 1994. The cement stairs to the main building and the auditorium looked the same; I was surprised that it didn't look smaller than I remembered it because things that I considered big as a kid are not so when I encounter them now. The floor in the hallway was still composed of the shiny, brown squared blocks I walked on almost two decades ago and I felt sad that the school hadn't been kept up or remodeled. The only thing missing was the glass display case where my picture for Writer of the Month would be displayed. Book reports, test scores, and different types of art hung on the walls instead.  

The auditorium where Oscar De La Hoya once stood for an assembly

I followed my mom through the main building. The library wasn't the library anymore but a parent center and the nurse's office still served its purpose. We stepped outside and headed towards the bungalows where my mother waits for the neighbor after school. I took the liberty of walking further to check out the covered eating area and yup, you guessed right, it had also remained untouched. My mom gave me Mrs. Valido's room number inside the main building and suggested I go back to find her while she waited for the little girl. I retraced my steps and waited as my former teacher spoke with several parents. I couldn't believe how nervous I was. My heart beat faster as three parents winded down to two and then one. I guess I was excited to tell Mrs. Valido, Look at me! I am who I am because of you! When she was finally available, I opened up with this line:

Me: Hi. I wanted to inquire about my child.

Mrs. Valido: Okay. Who is your child?

I told her that I was joking and asked if she recognize me. With open arms, Mrs. Valido said my name and embraced me. I took a look around as we talked. I was taken aback when I noticed how similar our classrooms were. She even gave me a mini-lesson on a reading strategy she uses with her second graders to develop comprehension. One of her students walked into the classroom and Mrs. Valido explained to him that I had been her student many moons ago. When he left he said, "Bye, teachers." I couldn't believe that I was standing next to Mrs. Valido as her equal now, as an educator. It used to be my dream and it had come true. 

I heard my mother outside and knew it was time to go. Mrs. Valido had a grade-level meeting to attend anyway so she put on her lipstick and we posed for a couple of pictures. I promised to come back more often during my off-track time and we parted ways. 

Mrs. Valido and me, 2012

Stepping inside my elementary school was bitter-sweet. I missed the innocent days where my biggest worry was writing a book report. But I felt saddened that its appearance hadn't changed since it opened its doors in 1912 (a banner outside stated this fact). Luckily, though, Mrs. Valido hadn't changed much since 1990 either. Perhaps Rowan Avenue elementary concocts its own the anti-aging solution in the basement...