In the spring, I taught a class that was full of bright students. One of the brightest and hardest-working was a young woman from a Middle Eastern country. She was about my age, had moved to the US with her husband to study, and was a bottomless pit of questions about English. She was taking some continuing education classes at the university in addition to her English classes, and I helped her with her essays. At the end of the semester, she threw a party for her female teachers and classmates (at which I felt horribly under-dressed when I discovered that women who wear scarves and veils in public look like supermodels at home). She cooked for a solid day ahead of time and made everyone feel welcome and at home in her apartment. In short, she was an amazing student.
And then her father got sick at home. She had to leave in a hurry, just a few weeks before the end of the semester. And that was the last I heard from her.
Until today! I came back from lunch and she was standing in the hallway, apparently waiting around to see me. She had had a difficult summer at home, as her father had passed away. But she was back and studying full-time at the community college, in classes every day with native English speakers. She brought me a teeny bottle of perfume from her country and invited me to another end-of-semester party in December sometime. We hugged and she promised to come back and visit again.
And that is why I have this job. I love the English language, but more than that, I love my students. And I love reconnecting with the best ones most of all.
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