The Professor

If the third-grade teacher in the Honda Accord is the foundation, then the professor is the evolution. Someone who takes what is simple and gives it depth, who refines knowledge into wisdom. She is the kind of person who doesn’t just read the world but interprets it, who knows that the right question is often more valuable than the right answer.

She moves with quiet assurance, comfortable in the space between certainty and curiosity. She values clarity but not at the expense of complexity. She is disciplined but not rigid, structured yet expansive. There is a thoughtfulness to her; a deliberateness in how she navigates conversations, emotions, and the small rituals of everyday life.

She believes in fairness, in boundaries, in the power of discussion. She listens, really listens, not just to respond but to understand. She laughs easily but never carelessly, as if she knows that joy, like time, is something to be savored.

And if the third-grade teacher drives a Honda Accord, the professor might drive something even more unassuming.

She is steady, focused. Moves with intention, breathes with awareness. I’ve joked before that she must be a Master Yogi, though I’m sure that’s not a real thing—and if it were, she’d probably dismiss the title with a knowing smile before quietly proving me right.

A Unicorn,

Maybe.