Today was, in a word, rough. Between grading quizzes and final papers and final projects and holding final conferences and revising and copying exams and making a terrible discovery that one of my colleagues really IS THAT IRRESPONSIBLE and two days worth of work has been shot down the tubes and hours of last minute rushing are now necessitated to make up for her idiocy, I've been at it non-stop for about ten hours and am about to go back to it for at least another three. And saying it will be over in a matter of days, while true, feels like telling a marathon runner that he only has three more miles to go after already running twenty-seven. While it might be true, it doesn't make the present any less painful. As usually happens around this time of year, I'm sitting here wondering why I do this and how much impact I really am having on these kids and whether or not any of it is worth it... but then, at the end of the day I made a discovery.

A letter.

It was penned by a former student and left unannounced on my desk at some point during my tumultuous day. In it, she thanked me for talking her through various personal issues, responding to some of her poems, insisted that while I won't remember her in ten years (I will), she will undoubtedly remember me because I was the best teacher she ever had since I took the time to care. And now - although I'm still stressed and my eyes are still strained from reading and my hand is still numb from grading - I'm all better again, because while I maybe can't affect them all that way, I can affect one that way, and sometimes, one is enough.

And may we all get such a gift, even if only once.