My third grade teacher made us brainstorm about what we wanted to do once we were older – “say twenty-five!” she said – in a journal activity. It seemed like centuries would pass before I even reached that age at the time. To the girl with the messy bob and shiny patent leather shoes, two digits in my age instead of one was remarkable! I’d probably be taller, wouldn’t I? I remember scribbling down that I wanted to be happy and that I wanted to teach to make others happy too. I drew a picture of myself on the crisp-smelling lined paper with a dull pencil. My pencil-point eyes were gazing out at a class while I was holding an extraordinarily misshapen book.That activity came back into my mind just now. Though that teacher is no longer gracing the earth, the lesson came back as a reminder. Reaching out to people in meaningful ways can bring back memories right when we don’t expect it. And guess what? I am taller, I am teaching, and double digits never seemed so comforting.