18th December 2024.
That was the first day I taught Émilie. I don’t remember much from that day, to be honest. One of my friends was visiting me from Sweden, he just got in, was a bit cranky, spoke to me in some bizarre dialect.
« Yes hello my name is Émilie ! » said a French woman right into my screen, my soul. She was bright and happy. Fast forward to today, our last lesson. 18th September 2025. She was still bright and happy.
« This is our last lesson? » I asked, a bit skeptical of the reality. It’s odd that I’ve never met her in person but I know she shows up to class every week and there’s never a problem with her spirit.
« Yes! » she exclaimed. « I am sad ! » You couldn’t tell it from her or me. I wanted to say thanks for the postcard from Corsica you got for me, I still keep it on my fridge. Thanks for listening to me, asking if I’m okay. Usually in service it’s you who ask « How are you » to your students or patients, but it was her to me.
I counted the lessons we’ve had. 41. I couldn’t believe it really. I’ve gotten used to a lot of my students taking 10, 20, sometimes 30 lessons, but it was rare to have one who hit that 40 mark. It hits you. The ones who’ve taken that, Alexandre too, 52 lessons. It’s a lot of time watching someone struggle to express himself, cry at you, grimace when they don’t remember a word, and then laugh it all off.
« I hope you have a nice life, » Emilie said at first, at the very end of our lesson. It was a long sweeping statement. I don’t think she honestly knew what to say, how could you in that moment? It’s not like she knew many private details of my life. But there I watched her, in all her privacy, fail.
« If you come to Paris, » I said, drifting, searching for a way to keep the connection. I too have gotten used to time with my students. They’re my pride of sorts, how they express themselves in English is a direct impact of my influence and skill.
« I hope you stay in France, » Emilie said. I waved goodbye and shut off the screen. She was gone.
It’s in moments like those you realize what staying somewhere means. It’s what you give up by moving, that sense of anchor to somebody else, or that anchor to yourself. A sense of self-commitment and commitment to others. I hope I stay too.