Samantha Didrichsen, MSED.

I don't know what to do
An angel wakes me, rids the burden of a hangman's fate,
Clear those eyes
I've played with gasoline and lit it now after mourning,
Cured my apathy, see that forest burning
It's plagued with all the thieves,
Their world came down without a warning
And I'm the one they see when the sky is falling
(Lit it now, hear them calling) I've played with gasoline
And lit it now after mourning,
Cured my apathy,
Light the gasoline
- Forest Ablaze, by Greywind

It feels absolutely wrong to even be writing this post. It has been three days since I received the news, and it still feels like a dream. Like this isn’t real. But it is real. And I don’t like it.

On Wednesday night, on Valentine’s Day and Ash Wednesday, my early childhood education professor from SUNY Fredonia, Dr. Mira Berkley, unexpectedly passed away. You can read her obituary here. If you’d like to listen to her and learn more about her, here is a 2017 roundtable discussion she held in Chautauqua county concerning high quality childcare and QUALITYstarsNY.

She was more than my professor and my advisor. She was my friend. She was a loved one. Her time supporting me in my growth as an educator and a person under her care was one that I didn’t even know I therapeutically needed.

I actually first met Dr. Berkely at the Fredonia Physical Therapy office right by campus during my freshman year of college. I was there tending to my gross motor needs with my muscles and she was there recovering from an injury, I believe. When I saw her during a session of mine, I knew who she was and I introduced myself to her. She was so kind. She asked me if I had class with her that semester (the semester had just started, I believe), and I told her that I wouldn’t be taking any early childhood courses until my sophomore year since I was a freshman. Later I would come to find out that she had initially thought I was older than I was because of how polite I had been.

Walking through snow, I look back
Daunting a slow and cold collapse
I hear you here in my own safe haven
But there's no one
Chasing your ghost, I sought solace
Chasing your ghost, no words could atone
What if they could?
I know a place, a safe place
A safe place
- Safe Haven, by Greywind

Dr. Berkley was more than an advocate for early childhood education. I can’t even begin to tell you how many times she drilled into our heads during our classes what NAEYC stood for (the National Association for the Education of Young Children, Dr. Berkley!). I enjoyed all of her classes learning about developmentally appropriate practices for young children and how to treat them. Honestly, learning under her was a blessing, if not just for the training, but for your own mental health. In combination with college counseling, her therapeutic understanding of her own college students and making sure we were all okay was like taking a warm, soapy bath with all the rubber duckies you could possibly ask for.

And what could you even do with those rubber duckies while taking that bath? Well my goodness, what a wonderful sensory experience for you as the soapy bubbles caress your body. You may even want to pop the bubbles using your little fingers! What a great opportunity to use your little muscles in your fingers to practice fine motor exploration in the bath water and work on hand-eye-coordination. You can even squeeze the rubber duckies! Maybe go and count how many you have. And what happens when you try to push them under the water? Will they stay under, or will they come right back up? Why is that? What happens if they bump into each other? Is he mad? Is he sad? How does he feel?

How do I feel? I feel like someone took a glass version of my heart and shattered it into little pieces, and I keep finding these tiny little bits all over the floor, because no matter how much I try to clean up, I keep on stepping on these darn things and hurting myself. And my husband, friends and family feel so bad for me because I keep accidentally stepping on the glass and I just can’t avoid them at all.

The last time I had seen Dr. Berkley was at the 2022 NYAEYC Chautauqua County fall conference held at SUNY Fredonia. I had texted her letting her know that I would be in attendance for my professional development requirement for U.B. She had told me that she didn’t think she would be going this year because of personal reasons that I won’t disclose here. How surprised I was to see her on campus, though! She was in the lobby of Reed Library/McEwen Hall where the College of Education faculty members (and probably others) were giving away free books of theirs. And of course, I grabbed some. Dr. Berkley had introduced me to another one of her students that was there for the conference who had also earned their PhD at U.B. Though we didn’t spend a lot of time together, it was so nice to see her. I just wish that I got to see her again in 2023 prior to my surgery.

But there will always be space for those wishes. I wish that she was still here. I wish that she could have seen me present research. I wish that she could have seen me graduate with my doctorate. I wish I just had more time with her.

I do know that she was proud of me. I do know that she loved and cared for me. I do know that, out of all the people she could have possibly known, she came to me whenever she had questions about serving young children with delays and disabilities.

Thank you, Dr. Berkley, for all the love that you gave to all that you met. Little Mira’s are definitely all over the place in the early childhood world because of you. May your memory be for a blessing.

You get caught in the desperate
Lives you can't save
Will you be a part of them?
Where's the sun?
I let it chase me
It happened and all of the colors they drowned
I couldn't see
I couldn't see
I couldn't see
I couldn't see

Only you'll be lost here when it's over
Only you'll belong here ever somber
- Desolate, by Greywind