Appreciation Day 1

On a Wednesday afternoon, I looked out the classroom window and saw the yellowish waving sign of an upcoming sandstorm. The fresh air was no longer, but the ten students seated and immersed in their writing didn’t notice. I got up and started closing the windows, which caught their attention.

“Why are you closing them, Ms. Ana?” asked Farouk from across the room—two desks and 15 feet away from me. The dinosaurs on his mask wiggled as he spoke as if they had follow-up questions.

I invited them all to pause their work and come see the sky. Mia jumped out of her seat and proclaimed, “My dad said there’d be a sandstorm!” Others followed and began telling stories about their experiences with such a common natural event.

At that moment, I had a flash movie playing in my head. It’d been in Egypt for six years and had endured many sandstorms. I thought of the familiarity of the smell of sand and the theme-like color that painted every memory I’d save from this place—all shades of orange, tan, and beige. I wondered if this would be my last storm.

I pulled out my phone and began recording. The white screaming eagles on my mask would remind future Ana that this happened in October 2020 and that I had the privilege of teaching in safe conditions. The redness of my hair would remind me that my departure from that country was long overdue, and the size of my class would be a subtle reminder of a last-minute “Ana, do you want to get back to work for as long as you’re here?” invitation.

Teaching ten students was like a dream until I saw the distance between their desks and noticed their fear of sharing a pen—watching that video again, I’d expect to feel melancholy, but what rushes in is gratitude.

The teachers I met in Cairo are people I will forever admire, many close friends whom I miss terribly. I was lucky to have a principal who pushed me in the right way and made me feel trusted and confident. I always joked with her about the reason why she chose to hire me, and she would put her hand on my arm without saying much back. She saw something in me and didn’t need to say it.

I’m so glad I recorded that brief Wednesday afternoon moment. I’m glad for the voices that remind me of such a community I loved being a part of and the current perspective that lets me connect my steps backward, starting from this 3rd-grade classroom with flexible seating.

Today is the first day of Teacher Appreciation Week and I want to write a story each day to celebrate those who made me feel lucky to do what I love most.