Jose is from Guatemala.
I know this because I pointed out Central America on my classroom world map and he tugged on my shirt and, “Hey, I’m from there. Me and my family are from Guatemala.”
“You are?” I asked. “I’ve always wanted to visit there. Will you teach me about Guatemala this year?”
“Yep,” he said.
“I’m glad you’re here,” I said.
I am.
By that I mean in the United States, in South Carolina, in Greenville, in my classroom, and in my heart.
I’m not sure how many times he’s heard those words, “I’m glad you’re here,” but he will hear them many times during this, his fourth grade year.
This afternoon, he gave me a letter, folded up into a little square.
I unfolded it, and this is what I found.
I’m lucky to be his teacher.
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