I was walking down the hallway this morning, joking around with one of my current students when, around the corner, appeared a young man who represents an entire class that I fell in love with about two semesters ago. They are called “elite,” here, which means that they tested in the top 1% of all the incoming students at this university. They're exceptionally gifted.
We – the 30 or so of them and I – connected instantly, and our semester together was all too short. I saw them several times after that, but their schedules became more occupied with classes and lab work, and I was busy with new courses and more new faces.
That was two years ago. I still miss them and smile every time I remember back to that classroom that we shared on the eighth floor.
I greeted that former student, both of us reciprocating smiles. Time wouldn't allow much more; he was going one direction and I was going the other, both of us having only a few minutes to spare.
Some time later, I was walking down that same hall and passed by a large classroom whose open door was too tempting. I paused during mid-stride and immediately recognized two faces from that very same elite class. Both boys looked up, broke into grins, and came charging out of the room (class had not yet started).
They looked more grown up and more confident. One of them is now wearing braces and has just returned from a semester spent studying in Taiwan. When I asked him if he still preferred Harbin to his former host city, he replied, “Oh, of course! Because Harbin has Meagan!” At that point, he leaned his tall frame down and wrapped his arms around my shoulders, practically burying me in his enthusiastic embrace. The three of us chatted for a few more minutes and then said goodbye and returned to our respective rooms.
A few minutes later, I received a text message from the first young man that I ran into, and it said, “We are in room 507. We miss you.”
I wrote back, “I miss you all, too.”
It is a cycle of giving and taking that dominates my year: the semesters end, the students leave and memories are strung together like rugged priceless pearls. How many people on this earth get to say that about their job?
It is a constant reminder that I am lovingly pierced, and I wouldn't trade my VOCATION or my LOCATION for any fewer painful goodbyes.
