NYU and Postcards

One of my seniors applied to NYU Abu Dhabi last semester. It was a long shot. Not because of him or his academic record - he is an outstanding student and at the top of his class. It's just hard for students from our tiny school to get into colleges with such high standards and expectations. I wrote his recommendation letter last fall and sent it in with a whispered prayer.

He got his acceptance letter yesterday. And he wasn't just accepted - he was accepted with a full ride scholarship! I am so unspeakably proud of him and all of his hard work. I know how many hours he has put into his work (sometimes more than even I think he should!) and how much he wanted this. His hard work is paying off, and his dreams are coming true.

This morning, he dropped by my classroom and handed me a postcard. Written on the back were these words:

Miss, I just want to say thank you for everything! First of all, thank you for writing me a recommendation letter despite your busy schedule. Also, thank you for always helping me in math. Being in your class has taught me to never give up but always work hard. I carried on this valuable lesson while doing my college application and it worked! You are absolutely part of this unbelievable miracle. I have always said this to you, but I want to say it again. Thank you for serving here when you could be more successful (in the world's eye) in other places. I hope to become like you, to use everything to serve others, even if it is somewhere remote and unknown. Thank you very much.


This is why I'm here! Not to see students get into fantastic schools or to prod high schoolers along to 4.0s. Certainly not for the recognition. Because really, nobody becomes a teacher for THAT.

I'm here to be a part of the story. A part of their story. Sometimes their dreams come true. Sometimes they don't. Sometimes God gives them a new dream - something they never even imagined. Every May, they go off to places around the world. I stay here. And I get to be here 2 years or 5 years - or maybe someday even 10 years - later when they come back. And they sit in my classroom after school and tell me about the places they have been and the things they have accomplished and the ways that they have grown. They tell me the next chapter of the story. The chapter that I don't get to see. But the chapter that I got to be a part of.