Ms. A was a visiting professor. I was in her English Lit. class for the necessary humanities credits. I don't remember that much about the class. We read. We dissected what we read, endlessly.
Ms. A was probably in her late 50's. Unmarried. My impression of her, from her personality, was that she was probably an ex-"hippie". Marijuana. Free love. The whole package. I liked her as an instructor. She was laid back and seemed to enjoy discussing English Lit. She gave me an "A".
At the end of the semester, she invited the class to her small house for a sort of cocktail party where we mingled and watched a movie version of one of the literary works we'd studied. Neither the literary work nor the movie was memorable enough to stay with me.
As far as physical appearance, her hair was dyed a reddish brown. Lipstick usually looked hastily applied. She had a soft apple shape. I hadn't really thought about her physical appearance much until the day I came across her in the sauna.
I used to go to the University rec center quite regularly. There was a cardio room, a weight room, a pool, a 1/8 mile track. In the large locker room was a dry sauna. Very relaxing after a workout and shower.
Usually, there were just other student regulars in there. We'd sit and lazily chat, keep each other from dozing off.
One day, I entered to find Ms. A sitting there with another oldish woman. Both of them buck naked in all their respective soft appleness.
Okay, that was weird.
She was one of my teachers. Naked right there. Hippie or not, it was strange. If she hadn't been one of my professors, I wouldn't have cared. But I must have compartmentalized her into the Teacher box, and it was strange seeing her out of it. Really out of it.
She didn't seem particularly uncomfortable with me, a student of hers, being in there. I proceeded to close my eyes and pretend to meditate or something.
"I think I saw JB's tutor last week. Is she a crossing guard? On Crazy Driver Boulevard?"
One of my students' moms told me her daughter thought she saw me being all crossing guard, or at least someone that really looked like me being all crossing guard. Was it me?
"Yep, that's me", I confirmed.
Apparently, JB's sister babysits one of the kids from Hoopa Choopa Elementary School, my place of crossing guardness. She picks him up after school.
"Oh, well that's nice to know that side of you", the mom said. I guess she had compartmentalized me into the Tutor box, and seeing me out of it gave her fresh perspective.
I'm glad it wasn't a sauna.