I didn't want to go to work this morning (well, okay, by the clock this is Saturday, but my body still thinks it's Friday) because all my kids—Number One Son, Soldier Son, Darling Daughter, and Prince Charming—and all three dogs were at home. But I had to go because I had an appointment with a student to discuss his problems with his term paper for my course.
The student showed up late, which gave me a chance to check my office email before he got there. To say I was intrigued to see a message with "Smiley High School" as the subject line might be an understatement: I had started my teaching career there nearly 40 years ago, but I hadn't been back since I left there after 5 years on the job.
The message turned out to be from a former student who had been in my class that very first year. He went on from the school to become a missionary, and he has moved to my town as Director of International Relations at our university's new health science center.
He had stumbled across my name in a hunt for something else, and he emailed me just to see if I were the teacher he remembered from all those years ago. I have to say that his memory is better than mine is; I don't remember many names from that first year, and his isn't one of them.
But the message—including that he was happy to see that I'm still teaching—was a delight.
The best happy grams of all are the ones you never expect.
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