Mrs. Beaster is a retired an elementary school guidance counselor from Richmond School in Sussex. She was a little over a head taller than my kindergarten self with hair that was not yet graying. And she looked like a grandma that baked you cookies whenever you were upset. Except for her, they weren’t cookies—they were pretzels.

She consoled the elementary kids (because there was a separate middle school guidance counselor) who needed to talk or were crying. As kindergarteners, we cried because we missed our parents.

As a three-year-old (which was when my parents divorced), I didn’t understand when my mom left me on purpose. When I started school a year later, I began to notice the peculiarity of my parents divorce. I was confused. Why aren’t my parents together anymore? What happened? Was it my fault?

Around the time school started, my parents figured out who was getting me and when. My mom got me every other weekend and then dropped me off at school on Monday and wouldn’t get me again for two weeks. So every other Monday, for the first few months of kindergarten, I came into school crying and missing my mom already even though she had just dropped me off. Of course, since I was upset, I got sent to the guidance counselor.

Mrs. Beaster welcomed me and asked, “Why are you crying?” and “What’s wrong?” She offered me the salty rod pretzels and give me toys (Barbies) to play with so I could calm down. She let me take as much time as I needed before she sent me back to class.

Mrs. Beaster taught me more than the dangers of drugs and bullies. She taught me how to handle my parents’ divorce. And that knowledge leaked into other tragedies in my life. I know how to handle myself when I am upset, and I know I can talk to people who care to make myself feel better. Mrs. Beaster is exactly the kind of person you tell everything and they know just what to say to make you feel better; just like a grandma.