My office door opened. Tentatively, almost apologetically, Ivy approached my desk and seated herself in front of me. She had asked for my help in refining topics for her college essays, and she handed me the application form for Princeton University.
"This is my reach school," she admitted. Even though Ivy is the likely valedictorian, Princeton is a reach school for almost everyone.
The application required two essays. One possibility would be to write about a person who had strongly influenced her life; the others asked for responses to quotations. I suggested that she start with the former.
"I'd like to write about my great-aunt back in China," she said.
"Why your great-aunt?"
"She raised me when I was a child," said Ivy. "We lived in Canton. There was a one-child policy, and my sister had already been born. My parents wanted to have a son, so they went ahead and had another child. That was me. Another daughter."
"Was there punishment?"
"My father had a post in the government. He would have lost his job, and had to pay fines. They had to send me away, to live with my great-aunt. They visited on weekends."
"How long did you live with her?"
"Until I was seven."
"And you remember her well?"
Ivy's face revealed a trace of regret. "I am starting to forget," she mumbled. "But when we read those Fairy Tales in class (we are analyzing tales from the Brothers Grimm), I remember her reading stories to me." Ivy's eyes brimmed with tears. "But I can't remember the stories anymore."
She took a tissue from the box on my desk. She was not self-conscious about her tears--her feelings ran too deep for that.
"Ivy, the stories are not important. The same stories are told all over the world. What is important is to remember the person who tells them to you."
Ivy took another tissue. She gestured at her sleeve. "My great-aunt wore loose sleeves. I remember that I would twist the seams in the sleeves while she read to me."
"That's right, Ivy. You do remember. When you write this, the memories will come back. Details, like twisting the sleeve. It will be a wonderful essay. We can get it translated, and send it to your great-aunt. I'm sure she will be proud."
Ivy's delicate features relaxed a bit. She attempted a smile. She will write about living with her great-aunt, and the essay will come from her heart. It will be wonderful.
We'll worry about the other one later.
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12 comments:
she sounds wonderful, and she certainly has a bright future ahead of her!
Beautiful, and I'm glad that she has you to advise her. She sounds like a terrific young woman.
Judi
Oh, the crazy world of college admissions. The fact you chose to write about this conversation is a tribute to your love of teaching. Are you SURE you want to retire? I know such moments don't outweigh all the perfectly good reasons to do so, but it will be such a loss for students like Ivy. A few minutes of your time and talent made such a difference in her life.
*debbi*
Twenty years from now she will be remembering you in the same way.
On behalf of Ivy, and of all the others you have influenced and gently encouraged, thank you. A lovely story...
And good luck to her.
When I read this, I know why the word teacher is one I'll always cherish. Have the feeling that Ivy will as well.
It must be a good feeling to know you have touched lives in a real way. We all remember special teachers. Kindness, compassion and "know how" will be a fine legacy to retire on.
It's posts like this that remind one how chance dictates where we are born, and how fragile life can be for females born in other parts of the world. It sounds as though Ivy has a very intuitive guidance counselor. It'll be a wonderful essay for sure, and you should rethink leaving your position since you're young and going to be bored as hell like my husband was.
Go see "The Departed". It's very violent but I'm betting you'll enjoy it. My favorite line was where the lady psychologist quoted Freud with "Irish men are the only people in the world impervious to psychoanalysis." We should ask Kathleen if this is true.
Sweet post, I wish I could read her essay. Would love it if she shared her memories.
Marie
Those are the moments that make slogging through all those papers worthwhile.
Just tell her that the school that is smart enough to enroll her WILL be an Ivy League school (oooooo bad pun but had to do it;)
Paul, you seem to be a great teacher. Your care for your students' success, in life as well as class, is evident.
Chris
My Blog
The only thing got when I twisted the sleeve of my great-aunt was a well used hankie... ;) It's true!
xoxoxo E
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