A few months ago, I got a message from a student I taught at my second school in Korea. She told me that she was going to attend a university in Seoul. She asked to get together some time with another student I had taught in her class that she keeps in touch with. I remember this student fondly, and her entire class was really cool. It’s rare I can remember a single student, let alone a whole class! If I’m ever in Seoul, I might send them a message to see what they are doing. I’d like to keep in touch.
Sending a message back and forth with some students from long ago is cool. I can’t believe students I taught as middle school children so long ago are now entering universities! I mean, logically it makes sense, but really? These students are going to good schools! They remember me as making a difference with their English education! I’ve helped someone achieve their goal! That is totally kick ass.
Anyway, I had another one of these strange occurances today. I have a class of high school students for a month before their schedules change and prevent them from attending our classes anymore. I’ve been teaching these kids for a while, but today a new student arrived. He’ll only be attending this class for the rest of the month.
I thought, “Why bother with a few weeks of class?”. He does have a bother, so perhaps his parents got some sort of deal to enroll them together at a reduced fee. I can’t be sure why he’s started at this time, but the more the merrier in a small class.
We go through our entire lesson discussing which room in a house is the most important. We did an outline to a prepared speech, then wrote our own speeches on the topic. I go through listening to all the speeches, critique them, suggest more advanced expressions. Finally, whent he bell rings, I ask the new student about the class.
He told me he liked it, but then asks me a few questions. “Hey, are you from Ohio? Do you live in this particular neighborhood?”
I joke, “What are you, a stalker? Yes, that’s right. How do you know all of that? You are new.”
“I think you were my old English teacher. I used to study with you at that school in this old neighborhood.”
WEIRD.
This boy was in fourth or fifth grade when I used to teach him a long, long time ago. Now he’s in high school, and he’s back in my class. He won’t be around for long. I don’t recall him at all. I guess I didn’t do anything traumatic to this boy, as he seemed happy to share this information.
When this sort of thing happens, it’s just another reminder of how long I’ve been here, how small the English community is, and why you never, ever want to piss off a student’s parents. My director thought it was a delightful coincidence.
