As the best substitute teacher in recorded history, grateful children sometimes feel an overwhelming need to write me sonnets, sculpt my bust or depict key moments of my regal guidance in action. Yesterday I received a stunning likeness of myself. (Medium: ball point pen on notebook paper.)
It is so detail-specific, he must have stared extra hard to get the print (centro internacional de idiomas) correct from my t-shirt. What a dedicated young man.
Could I ask for better validation than this for teaching (kind of) the nation’s youth? NO.