When I think about secure attachment, I think of warmth, safety, and connection. I think of squishy, soft landings—the kind of place where mistakes are met with curiosity, not judgment, and successes are celebrated with more enthusiasm than you’d expect for a spelling test. And when I think about secure attachments in my childhood, Mrs. Thompson immediately comes to mind.
In 1973, I was in third grade. (Easy to remember because my grade always matched the year—thank goodness for small mercies because math has never been my strong suit.) Mrs. Thompson was my teacher that year, and more importantly, she was the only teacher who modeled what I now know as secure attachment.

She Hugged Me Every Day
Now, before you picture an overly sentimental teacher in a Hallmark movie, let me set the record straight: Mrs. Thompson wasn’t a gushy person. She hugged every student, but not every student noticed. I did, though. I noticed because hugs weren’t exactly falling from the sky in my life. Her hugs weren’t just physical—they were emotional. Mrs. Thompson was a soft landing. She was the kind of person you could bring your most vulnerable self to, and she’d catch you without hesitation.
According to attachment theory, secure attachment is about feeling safe, seen, and supported (Bowlby, 1988). Mrs. Thompson nailed it, even if she didn’t know she was doing anything extraordinary.
The Soft Landing
Take my love of chocolate, for instance. Back then, Kraft caramels came in a bag with about 200 pieces, but here’s the kicker: there were always one or two chocolate caramels in the mix. Why Kraft didn’t just sell chocolate caramels separately is a mystery we may never solve, but it worked in my favor because Mrs. Thompson always saved the chocolate caramel for me.
If I aced my spelling test, I got to dig through the bag and find that one glorious piece of chocolate caramel. And let me tell you, this was the jackpot for a kid who had once drunk Hershey’s syrup straight from the can (one of many chocolate decisions that landed me in the doctor’s office with a stomachache).
Feeling celebrated is a hallmark of secure attachment (Siegel & Bryson, 2020). It wasn’t just about the chocolate—it was about the fact that she saw me and knew what would light up my little chocolate-loving heart.
The Day of Babies

Mrs. Thompson also had a knack for creating a sense of belonging. Show-and-tell was my absolute favorite. It was the social event of the week as far as I was concerned. One day, my classmate Lisa decided to shake things up with a surprise: her mom walked into class holding Lisa’s baby sister, Nancy.
The whole room lost their minds. Little Nancy had these big blue eyes, and everyone cooed over her like we’d just discovered babies for the first time.
I knew my turn would be next, but how could I possibly follow that act? My rock or trinket suddenly seemed embarrassingly dull. So, I improvised.
When my turn came, I stood in front of the class empty-handed and announced: “My mom is going to have a baby!”
The room erupted in cheers. Mrs. Thompson squealed, “What a day of babies!” It was perfect…until I got home and the phone started ringing. My mom wasn’t pregnant, but thought the whole thing was hilarious (well, kind of). Mrs. Thompson could’ve shamed me for fibbing, but she didn’t. She saw it for what it was: a kid craving connection.
The Titanic Moment
Another standout moment from her class was a project on density. The goal was to create the densest possible object that could float in water. With the enthusiasm of a future engineer (or a very ambitious bath toy enthusiast), I crafted a masterpiece—a weighted ball of clay sealed inside two bowls with an air pocket around it. My own Titanic.
When Mrs. Thompson saw my project floating in the water, she was amazed. She called over the other teachers, the students, and even someone holding a camera the size of a small car. I was mortified.
For some reason, I was sure I’d broken a rule. I just knew someone was about to call me out for cheating. That feeling—what I now know as imposter syndrome—hit me hard. But Mrs. Thompson didn’t let me spiral. She celebrated my work, lifting me up when I felt like sinking.
Why Secure Attachment Matters
Looking back, Mrs. Thompson was a master of creating secure attachment. She provided:
A sense of safety: Her hugs and warmth made me feel physically and emotionally safe.
Recognition: She noticed what made me unique and celebrated it.
Curiosity over judgment: She didn’t see me as a “difficult” child but stayed curious about my motivations.
Secure attachment isn’t about perfection; it’s about creating a “soft landing”—a safe place to make mistakes, grow, and feel seen. Mrs. Thompson did that for me and likely for so many others.
Conclusion
Mrs. Thompson wasn’t just a teacher—she was a life lesson wrapped in soft hugs and warm smiles. She taught me that secure attachment is about celebrating the little things, staying curious, and laughing at life’s funny moments (like announcing a fictional sibling).
Who was your “soft landing” person? And how can we bring that squishy, secure attachment energy into today's world?
Bibliography
Bowlby, J. (1988). A Secure Base: Parent-Child Attachment and Healthy Human Development. Basic Books.
Siegel, D. J., & Bryson, T. P. (2020). The Power of Showing Up: How Parental Presence Shapes Who Our Kids Become and How Their Brains Get Wired. Ballantine Books.
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