Smiling at strangers
Day after day, I sit in a corridor lined by classrooms in our local community college. Every Monday and Wednesday morning between 9 and 11 this semester, I'm comfortably settled on one of the padded benches by the wall with my winter coat, computer bag, purse, laptop, eyeglass case and reading glasses dispersed around me, smiling at a meme on my phone or typing away on the keyboard topping my lap. This semester, I am a familiar MW sight to all who pass. Also, as a plump, elderly person with spectacles, I probably give off mom-grandma vibes. Hence, it's not surprising at all that 80% of the people who walk through that space, look at me and smile.
Many of their faces have become familiar to me as well. There's the teacher of my son's class (the reason I'm in the corridor), a short young man who smiles and nods politely if our eye meet as he's headed to class. There's the balding security guy in uniform whose face used to be stern the first few weeks but has now taken on a more genial look, he even says "good morning" sometimes. Then there's the teacher whose class starts at 10; she hurries by breathlessly around 9:30 loaded with bags and books but no matter how fast she walks, she never fails to say a loud cheerful "hallo" with a broad smile in my direction. Some students walk by preoccupied without a glance. But many young girls, a few boys too, favor me with sunny smiles. Some of them, occasionally, sit down next to me to wait when their teacher is late. "Are you a student here?" "No, my son is taking a class". That's as far as the conversation goes.
There's one young woman who's slightly older than average, maybe in her early thirties. She's often on the phone, sometimes arguing, sometimes giving advice or instructions to someone. Seems like she's a person with responsibilities, a family, maybe kids / siblings to take care of, one or more jobs (I can't help overhearing an anxious word here, a worried tone there). She seems particularly delighted to see me as she appears around the corner for her 10 o'clock class, smiling with a "oh there you are - how nice" kind of look, as if we know each other really well. Maybe I remind her of her aunt or someone she knows. Even if she passes by while chatting on the phone, she makes sure to turn around and wave. The other day I was hunched over my laptop, summarizing the characteristics of some disease for my office website, when she appeared right in front. "Can you please tie my shoe? Actually I'm carrying all these things...", her voice trailed off as she realized that she didn't really need to give any reasons. I had already bent over and started twisting together the dangling laces like I've done for my kids hundreds of times. I tugged at the loops to check the knot, she said a hurried thanks and rushed off. I went back to my laptop and resumed my role of the slightly less strange stranger and (hopefully, a little bit comforting) mother-aunt presence, settled unvaryingly every Monday and Wednesday on the padded green bench in the community college corridor.
Many of their faces have become familiar to me as well. There's the teacher of my son's class (the reason I'm in the corridor), a short young man who smiles and nods politely if our eye meet as he's headed to class. There's the balding security guy in uniform whose face used to be stern the first few weeks but has now taken on a more genial look, he even says "good morning" sometimes. Then there's the teacher whose class starts at 10; she hurries by breathlessly around 9:30 loaded with bags and books but no matter how fast she walks, she never fails to say a loud cheerful "hallo" with a broad smile in my direction. Some students walk by preoccupied without a glance. But many young girls, a few boys too, favor me with sunny smiles. Some of them, occasionally, sit down next to me to wait when their teacher is late. "Are you a student here?" "No, my son is taking a class". That's as far as the conversation goes.
There's one young woman who's slightly older than average, maybe in her early thirties. She's often on the phone, sometimes arguing, sometimes giving advice or instructions to someone. Seems like she's a person with responsibilities, a family, maybe kids / siblings to take care of, one or more jobs (I can't help overhearing an anxious word here, a worried tone there). She seems particularly delighted to see me as she appears around the corner for her 10 o'clock class, smiling with a "oh there you are - how nice" kind of look, as if we know each other really well. Maybe I remind her of her aunt or someone she knows. Even if she passes by while chatting on the phone, she makes sure to turn around and wave. The other day I was hunched over my laptop, summarizing the characteristics of some disease for my office website, when she appeared right in front. "Can you please tie my shoe? Actually I'm carrying all these things...", her voice trailed off as she realized that she didn't really need to give any reasons. I had already bent over and started twisting together the dangling laces like I've done for my kids hundreds of times. I tugged at the loops to check the knot, she said a hurried thanks and rushed off. I went back to my laptop and resumed my role of the slightly less strange stranger and (hopefully, a little bit comforting) mother-aunt presence, settled unvaryingly every Monday and Wednesday on the padded green bench in the community college corridor.
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