GoMom

"Dear Ms. Ouellette," said the card, in careful cursive script. "Thank you for being such a great teacher. I miss you as our teacher. I thought medeival history was a great block and I learned a lot. I will always remember the Bubonic plague and you." 

This is the kind of thing money can't buy, don't you think? I teach at a small Waldorf school, where much of the curriculum is delivered via the arts and storytelling. This year I had the chance to go in as a "guest teacher" in my daughter's sixth-grade classroom, where I led the kids through the Middle Ages with all the attendant glory and gore, including the morbid misery of the plague: the black sores, the pain and agony, the rotting bodies and stench of death, and the desperate and ineffective ploys people used to ward it off, including whipping themselves in the town squares to appease God. 

It's a high compliment that this sweet little girl who wrote me an end-of-the-year card will never forget the Bubonic plauge, or me.  "Have a great summer!" she cheerfully saluted in closing. Oh, I will!  I definitely will, knowing I've made just the lasting impression that every teacher hopes for.