The Ghost Locker

Today was the day for my students to learn how to open a combination lock as part of getting ready to go to middle school. Each student was given a lock with a combination, and they practiced opening their locks over and over again. At one point, the teacher leading the lesson told the kids that it would be a good idea to write down the combination when they go to middle school, in case they forget. Wise advice, indeed, unless you're afraid of someone getting a hold of it. As narcissistic as kids can be, this is why many don't write it down, and I was one of them.

My senior year in high school was probably the best year of school for me. Coming into my own and feeling more secure, I abandoned old ways of doing things in favor of less complicated, more relaxed ways, of which included ending my long trips to my locker in between classes. When my second semester began, I found that my locker was far away from all of my classes, and so I decided to carry all of my books in my backpack. Consequently, I also forgot my locker combination. 

I am usually really good at memorizing numbers (I still know my childhood phone number like the back of my hand), but because I went to my locker so infrequently even at the start of the year, the numbers faded away into the recesses of my memory, replaced by thoughts of guys I liked and what I would do with my friends that weekend. 

As the days and months of my senior year speedily flew along, I sometimes thought of at least going to clean out my locker, if nothing else. To do this, I had to go to the front office to get my combination, and I was too embarrassed to do that. Me, admit I had forgotten something? No way! So, I never went back. I still wonder, what was left in there? And for whoever got it next, what would they find?

The locker still creeps into my dreams from time to time. In a foggy stupor, I am looking for something, and that red locker appears, with my old binder laying at the bottom, with rotting food stinking up the hall. 

As a teacher, I realize that the locker was likely cleaned out by the custodians over the summer, but still, the ghost of that locker haunts my subconscious. 

It's funny how things from the past can haunt us, making us always wonder or feel guilt. In those fretful thoughts we imagine things to be much worse than they ever were. The power of the mind is an amazing thing.

When my kids grow up, I will be sure to tell them never to be afraid of making a mistake. It's better to deal with it then, rather than having thoughts about it years and years later. The guilt and burden borne by such thoughts are usually ridiculously overblown, and just not even worth it.