May 10th

It's the final week of classes. I'm reviewing grammar tenses with the students and saying 'good-bye' to a wonderful group of students. I look back with a sense of gratitude and nostalgia - a slight pulling of the heart strings that came over me last night as I walked home from my final Monday class with a colleague and a friend of mine. In many ways, I've learned as much from the students as they've learned from my lessons and perhaps more. More than anything else, I hope my students have seen me as a person devoted to their well-being. Some of my students, I've heard through the grapevine, believe I've pushed them further than perhaps other English teachers. I wouldn't have it any other way. If anything, it's an indication that I want them to succeed. And while I'm not certain how much I've helped in terms of improving their ability to comprehend the English language, I am glad that I was able to project my passion and enthusiasm.

I'm ending each class with a 'thank you' and a promise: that I will go back home and tell friends and family about them. It's especially important, now, that we take steps to humanize those with whom we have yet to interact with. I hope I can project helpful information and reveal a very "human side" to the geographical and cultural boundaries separating Turkey and the US.

I'll spend the next few weeks flipping through my mental rolodex, dwelling on the significance of this year in terms of the difference I hope I've made (and have yet to make), and my own personal emotional, spiritual, and intellectual growth. I understand the frustrations I may have returning to the States, and there's no better time to prepare for that. This year has been transformative in a way I could have never expected. No longer do I feel occupied by allegiances I've maintained for years now. My existence is more free than that. My home is wherever I am, and wherever I find comfort and solace. It is the human experience above all else that encapsulates, warms, and protects me.