When my older son, Javier, was a toddler he and I commuted to TC together because he was in daycare at TC’s Rita Gold Early Childhood Development Center. (Shout out to all the inimitably gifted and kind teachers at Rita Gold who helped us raise our boys when they were small. You are superheroes every day and I remain in awe of you more than a decade later.) 

Javi and I made our daily trip in the hand-me-down 1994 Buick LeSabre my father-in-law gave us where Javi’s car seat had him perched like a little king in the very roomy and elevated backseat. One cold, dark evening in December we were driving home together after a long day doing all kinds of tasks to try to close out the semester (me) and a gloriously fun day of many hours playing, a hearty lunch, a two hour nap, and copious snacks (Javi). We hit a typical rush hour traffic jam on Riverside Drive and were inching northward at a snail’s pace. I was tired and frustrated by the slow commute. Javi was happily playing with a book my mom had given him, something called “A Sesame Street Pop-Up Songbook” where you press different buttons and can sing along with a song for each character Elmo meets while he looks for Big Bird. This is only something a grandma would buy as no parent in their right mind wants to hear a 20-second rendition of a tinny, robotic singing Elmo even once, let alone a hundred times, while trapped in a car going one mile per hour. 

Javi requested that I sing along with Elmo and he quickly discovered that if he pushed the button without telling me I had a hard time starting the song at exactly the same moment Elmo did. After a few of my failed attempts he began saying, “You missed it, Mama. Again!” He then quickly shortened this to, “You missed it! ‘Gain!” in a tone I can only describe as disgusted. We must have done 40 rounds of this and I nailed it maybe twice. All the while I was trying to stay focused on remaining alert, driving us safely home, repressing my fury that my mom had given Javi such an evil book, and not getting upset with my 1½ year old for tasking me with the impossible and then criticizing me when I could not do what he wanted. Oof. 

This story has become legend in my family and twenty years later we will bust out Javi’s catchphrase if someone doesn’t grab the remote being tossed at them from across the living room, or if their crumpled up piece of paper hits the floor rather than the trash can, or if one of us doesn’t get the joke being told at family dinner. “You missed it,” someone will say, (disgusted tone preserved) and then we all laugh. I am always immediately transported back to that warm, spacious Buick interior, with my chubby, smiley, imperious baby safely strapped in his car seat ordering me to try again. To try again not to miss it. 

One of my favorite songs that references this month is A Long December by Counting Crows. The lines I love most are: 

And it's been a long December and there's reason to believe

Maybe this year will be better than the last

I can't remember all the times I tried to tell myself

To hold on to these moments as they pass

In the last fifteen weeks I have watched you, our S-OP students, work, study, struggle and learn together. I have seen you gathered with one another in classrooms, in the hallways, the library, the cafe, and the student lounge, chatting, sharing advice, commiserating, and often laughing. 

I remember the first Group Dynamics class this semester was a balmy summer day where the classroom was filled with bright sunshine that matched my sunny mood and my excitement to meet my new students. All of a sudden it’s the last day of class, the sun sets at 4:30pm, and the high temperature hovers just below freezing. 

I have tried not to miss it. I have tried to be present to the wonder and privilege that is the work we do together and the community we build doing it. I know I speak for all my faculty and staff colleagues when I tell you how grateful we are to all of you for sharing this learning community with us. In the joyful, exciting, often tiring, and sometimes stressful end to another academic semester and another calendar year I wish for all of us that we can “hold on to these moments as they pass.” I’m encouraging all of us, myself included, not to miss it. 

Wishing you a happy and healthy winter break. See you in 2026!