I have complained a lot about my job over these past two years. It's not easy. We may not work long, grueling hours, we may not have the grading that other teachers have, but this also means we don't establish the connections with students, don't get to gauge their progress, and don't always know when we've made a difference.
Today I learned that a student of mine, with whom I have been working intensively outside of class, went from what is essentially a D- average to getting one of the highest scores in the class on his final exam.
His teacher called me as soon as she had finished grading his exam, and asked me to pass the information along to him. I melted inside. This kid has worked so hard to get where he is. We met for hours to practice speaking; he sent me essays and practice grammar tests that he had done in his spare time. So when I called him to tell him the news, hearing his grin through the phone was enough.
But then he sent me a text message half an hour later. Clearly he was still reeling from the news. In the message he thanked me, told me that he didn't know what to say, that he was just so happy he could hug me. And then he thanked me for always believing in him, and that it really meant a lot to him.
I now know why people become teachers. There is no better feeling than knowing you have made a difference, even a small one, in someone's life.
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