Sigh. Sob. Smile.

I had a student write the most wonderful, insightful letter and distribute it to each of her teachers. She wrote about the frustration she experienced over the lack of interest in the legacies of the people who have gone before us. She wondered about the men and women she read about in her history books who were only given a sentence or two, when their impact on history was so much greater. She promised to carry on our legacies, and she said, "If my life were to be a textbook, each and every one of you would deserve chapters upon chapters. As my teachers, your impact on me will never be unsung. You have been, and will always be, my heroes." It was beautifully crafted. I cried when I read it. The young woman who wrote it is an incredible person.

The letter that I will cherish even more dearly, however, was hashed out on binder paper minutes before graduation. It was handed to me by a student in a graduation cap and gown, with tears in her eyes, who shook her head, started crying, hugged me, and walked away. I stuck it in my pocket with tears welling in my own eyes. 

When I got home tonight, I unfolded it, and, before I even started reading it, I knew that this, this was the letter I would cherish. She told me what she learned from me, little by little. She wrote about how I changed her and how she can't thank me enough for the life lessons I taught her, and she identified each one. I didn't know she was watching that closely.

Watching that girl walk across the stage, with her life in front of her, was, no doubt, one of the proudest moments of my teaching career.  I can't imagine teaching without my mini-me around, but I'm looking forward to this new season of our relationship. 

We can now, truly, just be friends.