The Emotional Roller Coaster of Running Into Your Former Teacher as an Adult in Lubbock

There are very few experiences stranger than unexpectedly running into one of your old teachers as an adult.

Especially right here in Lubbock, where apparently, no one ever truly leaves, and every public place eventually becomes a reunion episode that you don't necessarily want to be part of.

If It Hasn't Happened Yet, It's Coming

A few years ago, I ran into my 7th-grade history teacher at Cracker Barrel.

Instantly, despite being a fully grown adult capable of paying taxes and legally operating a motor vehicle...I suddenly became 13 years old again. I don't even remember what I said. I just remember immediate panic.

I was standing there, covered in tattoos, with a cigarette hanging out of my mouth, like a real winner.

I've lived an entire adult life since middle school, and yet, some deeply buried part of my brain still thought: "Oh no. I've let Mr. Stewart down. Terribly."

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Tail Between Your Legs? It's Okay!

That's the weird thing about teachers. When you're a kid, they don't feel like regular people. They exist in an elevated category somewhere between "authority figure" and "God." You never imagine them doing normal things like grocery shopping, arguing with their spouse, flipping someone the bird in traffic, or accidentally dropping an F-bomb.

When you're a kid, teachers seem to remain inside the school walls. One day, you grow up and notice your former Algebra teacher up at the bar, ordering her fourth margarita with way too much enthusiasm, and it clicks:

Teachers are just regular people.

They aren't disappointed in you for your tattoos. They probably don't even remember your name. They're just trying to order dinner and get back home to their Netflix and chill as fast as you are. I promise you.

Most teachers are honestly probably just thrilled that any of their students survived at all.

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Teachers Are Winging It, Too!

The older you get, the more you realize that your teacher was just an adult trying to do their best while trapped in a building with a bunch of sticky, smelly kids.

Seeing them in the wild, as a human being instead of a mythical authority figure, is kind of comforting, actually, even if you instinctively feel guilty for letting my potty mouth slip...

Sorry, Mr. Stewart....

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