What becomes of elementary school classmates?

It's that time of year again.

The time when we take a step back and reflect, particularly on the people in our lives -- both current and former -- and how we've treated them.

Do you ever wonder what became of your elementary classmates? 

I do.

We live a stone’s throw away from the house I grew up in and, subsequently, the elementary school I attended, which I intentionally drive past twice a week when I take Scotty to his Play & Learn class.

Each and every time I enter my old subdivision it’s like going down Memory Lane – both literally and figuratively.

Because my parents and I moved after fifth grade, I never attended school with these kids again.

But motherhood – coupled with my weekly elementary school drive-bys – have prompted me to reflect on the relationships I had with these kids.

If I could go back in time, would I change the way I treated them?

This post is about two I won’t soon forget. And while everything you are about to read is 100% true, I’ve changed their names. (What with Facebook and social media, the last thing I wish to do is dredge up someone’s past and embarrass them.)

First, there’s Heather, who was one year younger than me and lived four houses down. We met when our big wheels collided on the sidewalk one summer afternoon.

The details of our first encounter are murky, admittedly, as I was only four years old at the time. But I do remember this: I couldn’t understand a word Heather said because she had a severe speech impediment.

And I also remember that it didn’t matter.

What did matter, however, was that she knew every single lyric of Christopher Cross’ “Sailing” and Lionel Ritchie’s “You Are the Sun, You Are the Rain,” which we sang together nearly every day under the large pine tree in my front yard.

And from simple activities like that one, we forged the strongest friendship of my childhood.

It was as if, seemingly overnight, my ears became trained to understand each and every word Heather said because her language issues became less and less of a barrier.

I don’t know what ever became of Heather, but I think of her – and her mother often.

As a mother myself, I often wonder what Heather’s mom must have gone through, having a child who couldn’t verbalize her own name and ended up transferring to a special elementary school because of her disability, and how relieved she must have been that I accepted Heather wholeheartedly.

Isn’t that what we all want our children to experience – acceptance and true friendship?

And then there’s Bennett.

Bennett was a classmate as well as the brother of a fellow Girl Scout member.

And his legacy, as far as I can recall, boiled down to two words: “Booger Bennett.”

Short and petite, Bennett was always the proverbial runt of the class, which, as a boy, put him at a disadvantage from Jump Street.

Then the death knell came sometime around the third grade when someone noticed him picking his nose.

Stunned by being called out, Bennett then proceeded to try and wipe his finger on the sleeve of a nearby student.

It was all downhill from there, and a vicious cycle ensued.

The more Bennett was teased, the more he wiped his boogers on people. He seemed to revel in his unpopularity, which, in hindsight, was all just a coping mechanism, I’m sure.

Thirty years later, I still wonder about Bennett, how he eventually turned out, and whether the incessant teasing he endured still affects him today.

And here’s the one regret I have: While I never teased Bennett, I never really made an effort to befriend him, either.

I can’t help but wonder if the true essence of his identity was lying dormant under the armor he had built up to protect himself.

Was Bennett ever truly able to be himself after that fateful day in third grade?

Like Heather, all he probably wanted was to be liked.

What relationships from your childhood do you remember – for better or for worse?

*This post was originally published in Gannett's Hometown Life newspapers.