The holidays are coming up, and with Thanksgiving being next week, I’ve been thinking a lot about family. I have a very small family, and in 2006, when I found out I was going to be an aunt for the first time, I was over the moon. In December of 2012, I found out that I was going to get another niece or nephew, and couldn’t wait. That holiday season is one I think about often, especially this time of year, when I reflect on how lucky I am to be an auntie to such wonderful kids.

It was December of 2012. My brother, sister-in-law, nephew, and I drove down to North Carolina for an early Christmas holiday weekend. We got to my dad’s house at five in the morning on Friday, and I passed out on the bed. When I woke up and finally logged on to Facebook, I saw post after post about gun control and school shootings. Confused, I went to a news site to find out what happened. The Sandy Hook shootings. Kindergartners and their teachers shot multiple times. Teachers hiding in bathrooms and closets with students. Students running from the gunman. Pictures of children filing out of school, hands on each other’s shoulders, eyes closed and heads turned. My chest hurt so bad I pressed my hand against it as I read. Each article was more grotesque than the previous one, but I kept reading. It didn’t seem plausible, and maybe if I kept reading about the details, it would become something, because my brain was not comprehending what had happened. I looked over at my nephew, Trey, who was halfway through his kindergarten year. He was drinking apple juice and watching Spongebob Squarepants, and a knot lodged itself at the base of my throat.

Fast forward to a few weeks later, in early January of 2013, and I am at Trey’s school. Parents or family members can come to the kindergarten for a half hour or so and help out the teacher. I peer around the doorway of the kindergarten classroom, and his teacher, Miss Barrett, sees me and says, “Trey! Your aunt is here, do you want to go over and say hello?” Trey breaks away from the circle his classmates made and tries to hide his surprised smile as he walks over to me. I crouch down and give him a big hug. I was so nervous about what to wear and what to do, but I think so far I’m doing okay.

“What does Trey call you?,” Miss Barrett asks.

“Oh, he calls me Aunt JJ but the kids can call me Miss Jaime.”

“Okay, everyone, let’s say hi to Trey’s aunt, Miss Jaime.”

It is less than a month after the Sandy Hook massacre, and as I talk to each child, I cannot help but think of those teachers and children in those terrible moments. I look around the room and imagine the gunman here. There are no exits, no way out but the classroom door. I imagine the carnage, the panic. There is a pounding in my chest as I think about what those children and teachers went through. There is no doubt about what I would do.

Walking around the class, I meet Lilly, Marley, Jazan, Kiki – all of them eager to tell me their life stories. They bubble over with kidlove and innocence. They touch my sweater or play with my hair. They tell me about their siblings, about their parents, what they had for lunch, what they got for Christmas. They show me how well they can read their “popcorn words” or trace sentences, and smiles stretch across their teeth when I tell them they are doing a super job. When I am around children, any sharpness in me rounds out. My shoulders relax, and I move easily in my skin.

My time in the classroom flies by, and Miss Barrett tells the class that Miss Jaime needs to leave because they have to get to gym class. A chorus of little kid “Thank yous” are shouted, and I give Trey a big hug goodbye. I walk out of the building with a smile on my face that hasn’t been there since the beginning of the school year. I feel lighter, and somehow I feel right again inside. I think I have just spent a half hour being reminded of the most basic reasons for living, by the littlest teachers I’ve ever had.

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Note: Nearly a year after the Newtown shootings, I ask Trey what he did in school that day, and he tells me he had a lockdown drill. I don’t understand what he’s talking about, and ask him to repeat it, and he does. He tells me about the teacher locking the doors and covering the window of the classroom door. He tells me about going under desks or into a corner away from the door. This is his normal, and it scares the hell out of me. At six and seven, these children are preparing for battle in a place that should be safe. They continue to teach me lessons I wish we did not have to learn.

Photo: Aunt JJ (Jaime Herndon) and her nephew, Trey
Published: November 19, 2014