She used to be a student of mine. She struggled with the class. A few times she came in for tutorials, but the amount of material she hoped to make up was just too much.
She had a really hard time. Still, every day she would smile when she came in. But it must have been miserable, the kind of thing that people have nightmares about well into adulthood.
What do students think of their teachers in classes like these? It can’t be good, right?
But today during lunch, she pokes her head in the room and says hello. She is smiling as usual. I call out her name. She takes long strides across the room.
“Mr. Hasan,” she says as she walks toward me. “I remember you were in aerospace. I got accepted into fight school. I’m going to be a pilot.”
I guess the smile on her face was genuine.