The "Root" of It All

Second grade was a defining year for me in my childhood.  I remember that year for many reasons but also because of the "firsts" I experienced.

- I "first" discovered just how much I loved reading and loved the library

- I "first" learned how AWESOME Little Sisters Baby Sitters Club books were

- I "first" got married (thanks to Karen's inspiration from said Little Sisters Baby Sitters Club books) on the playground

- It was the "first" time I was called bossy (and I assure you, not the last time!)

- It was the "first" time I was allowed to CHEW GUM in school

- It's the "first" time I remember having an "enemy" - who of course, happened to be a boy

- I "first" knew I wanted to be a teacher like Ms. Polly

- I "first" learned to ride a bike in 2nd grade (yes, a little late, but better late than never!)

My 2nd grade teacher was Ms. Polly, who I thought was ancient just as almost any child thinks when it comes to age and adults.  I must admit I remember feeling jealous of my twin's teacher, Mrs. Wasilewski, mainly because she gave bonus points on spelling tests if you spelled her name correctly.  


But Ms. Polly was a wonderful teacher who truly loved what she did.  

Besides being a gifted teacher and having just about the BEST cursive handwriting ever, she always smelled like peppermint, specifically, Wrigley's Extra peppermint gum, which she chewed non-stop. On Fridays, if you had survived the week without checks, the current form of discipline at that time, she would give you a mini baby blue colored pack of  peppermint gum.  


Let it be known hardly EVER did I make it to Friday without a check, but the Friday's I did, how I relished those 5 pieces of gum that were mine, all mine! 

Ms. Polly has been on my mind of late because last week I had my first ever (and ideally last ever) root canal. You might be wondering what on earth does my second grade teacher have to do with a root canal, but during my second grade year, I had my first introduction to what a root canal was.  Now mind you, it was the early 90's and dentistry has come a long way since then, but I still had an increased heart rate when the dentist mentioned I would be needing a root canal.  Ms. Polly happened to need a root canal while I was her student, and when she came back, she described the ENTIRE EXPERIENCE to us naive children who had no knowledge of the scary adult world of dentistry.  

I remember going home that day and brushing the heck out of my teeth and flossing.  I continued to live in fear for the remaining of my childhood of going to the dentist and having them say, "you need a root canal". 

So, twenty years later, here I am, receiving the verdict of the pain in my mouth.  My first thought (after Ms. Polly's story) was, "how much is this going to hurt?".   After the VERY kind nurse talked me down and told me a root canal was just like getting a filling (semi-true),  I found myself wondering what the "root" cause of this problem was.  (Long story short, the root canal was due to an improper crown procedure a year ago, so it is kind of true!)  

After receiving the procedure, (which wasn't too bad) I found myself thinking about the version Ms. Polly had given to mine.  Did she elaborate just to scare us small children into taking better care of our teeth?  Did my childish mine exaggerate the story I was actually told?  Did all my visits to the library ready fictional stories encourage me to add a little fiction to my life? Was it really that horrible of an experience for her?  And then I wondered just how much of her story possibly got exaggerated in my imaginative little mind...

This whole experience has made me think about what takes root and what doesn't.  Of all the things I learned during second grade - a root canal, gum, and cursive hand writing are what I think of most with my teacher.  In all this, I'm trying to be more aware now of what takes root.  Is it really important to remember how someone honked their horn at me on Ponce because I didn't speed up like Speed Racer when the light turned green?  Is it important to remember how someone treated me poorly that one time on that one day?  Or should those precious brain cells be "rooted" in memories having a stranger smile at me or remembering kind words said to me by a friend?


 I'm a to-do list kind of gal and I've added something to my night time routine.  Each night before going to bed, I think about what I want to take "root" in my mind for the day.  I try to shake off the negative thoughts and "accentuate the positive".