Rachel Traxler (Doctoral Candidate, Teaching and Learning, Special Education, NYU Steinhardt)
My first night in NYC, I sat in a wooden booth in the village and cried in an Italian restaurant, mourning a loss I [couldn’t, still can’t] identify.
A courier fell off his bike in week two, spilling Caesar salad across Broadway and Astor Place. Six of us helped scoop [the salad, him] up, back into the [bowl, bike].
Month one, I walked alone to Tribeca and saw Rupi Kaur on the first leg of her tour. I called Mom afterwards. I didn’t know if I was [safe, alright].
I learned my laundress’ name, Ms. May, in month six. Spiderman trick-or-treated in her shop on Halloween. I like to think he took the mystery-flavored dum-dums from her candy dish.
In my second year, I shoulder-checked a man on the train. I discovered the poetry section at the Strand.
In my third year, I paused class as my students received word of virtual learning. I sat across from them, shelving participant observation methods to offer reassurance that we’d handle whatever was coming. I quoted Hagrid.
“What’s coming will come, and we’ll meet it when it does.”
I held class virtually [month one, month two, month three] shelving data collection methods in favor of extended [hellos, goodbyes]. We welcomed unexpected visitors to class [dads curious about virtual learning, students’ family dogs, one docile bearded dragon].
Year three, @howdidyougetthepianohere serenaded [me, us, patrons] on Instagram Live. He didn’t intend to go on that night [about love, Rachmaninoff], but I think he knew we needed it.
I rescued my plants in year three, amidst headlines of 23,000 dead. I hoped none were [Spiderman, curious dads, Ms. May].
In year three, I moved to New Jersey.
In year four.
Year four?