Lang

She wasn't in English class this morning. I thought about it later, sitting in the library. It was so strange; she was routinely present. I pushed back the thoughts that told me she might not ever come back. But it happened once before. It was a seventh grader. He also took violin lessons from me on Sundays. It was after the Christmas break. I had finally gotten the Suzuki books in the mail and my parents had brought a violin tuner from the States so he could tune at home and practice at home effectively. But he never came back. He never saw the books or the tuner.

As I was passing back last week's test papers in Math class, I kept her paper. Another girl came up and asked if she could have it to give it to her. I told her I would keep it; I could give it to her tomorrow. "She not come back."
"What!?" My concern was valid and somehow I had known it from the time I noticed her absence that moring. "She's not coming back?" She shook her head quietly. "Why?"
"Don't know, [Tea]'cha."
"She's not coming back? Why wouldn't she come back?" I groaned. I put my hand to my head. I was flustered. I tried to start Math class as I thought of the last interaction I had had with her, there in the front row before me. The class quieted down and we had prayer. I didn't say her name, but I prayed for her and I prayed that we would be appreciative of the time we had with each other. I didn't think any of the other students knew, and perhaps, after all, it wasn't true. Maybe she would be back.

The class had just changed seating. Her seat had a new occupant; it was never vacant. She was quickly replaced. There was an empty chair, but it was not hers in the front row.


I replay a typical scene in my mind. She calls me over while I'm walking around the room checking on the students. She wants my help with something. She doesn't understand. I crouch down in front of her desk so that I am almost level with her. I can see her eyes through her foggy glasses. I can hear her reading the directions and asking, "What...?" and pointing to the word she doesn't know. I share in her excitement when she understands and methodically begins writing the answer. She finishes and looks up for approval. I nod and we smile together.

But it wasn't always like this. This is her first year at Cambodia Adventist School and her first year in an all English program. It's a tremendous difficulty to switch from all classes in Khmer to all classes in English. At the beginning of the year, she often grew weary of my unintelligible babble and would put her head down to sleep. I don't blame her. It's not long that I will endure Khmer. But I tried to help her in particular. I do better one on one anyway. After I finished my explanation to the class, I would often go straight to her and explain it again. We slowly reached the point where she could tell me straight up, "I don't understand." This is important. She became comfortable enough to be honest and that's when I can really help. Now, she'll come up after class and ask more questions until she understands. She has continued to improve and if she perseveres, she may even pass both of my classes, English and Math. That would be quite impressive, considering this is her first year.

Perhaps even more bothersome is that I related the story to a fellow teacher who teaches her as well. She agreed that it was unfortunate, but wasn't at all startled. She determined that the girl simply became too discouraged and why shouldn't she? I disagreed. I thought she was improving amazingly. My counterpart is not as optimistic as I. This eight-grader and I have a connection that I really enjoy. I am perhaps even more hopeful than her, but I think she can do it. I hope and pray to see her in school tomorrow.

...................

GOOD NEWS!! She's back. On Friday she walked into the library with her 8th grade class and I recognized her from the back. She turned and saw me and waved excitedly--almost as animated as me. I talked to her during P.E. and got to tell her I was glad she is here at our school. I turned to leave (slash go play soccer with the fellas) and she called back, "Thank you Teacher".