A scrap

I wrote this little guy for class and then wanted to delete it. I didn't want it to feel bad about itself though, so instead of deleting, I told it I would copy and paste it on my blog. It was very relieved that it wouldn't be going to waste.  

"Sister Ida, my favorite sister and also one of the oldest and sweetest at Mother of God Monastery, was my Wednesday night driving and teaching buddy. Every Wednesday at 7:00, I pulled up to the Monastery to pick her up, she would greet me with a warm hug, and we would head down Highway 81. Together we taught ESL to Spanish-speaking dairy farm workers at a little country church 30 miles away. It was my first job out of college, and the first time I felt that I was actually using my degree and what I had been reading about for all of those years. I was finally an English teacher.

When we arrived to class, we welcomed the students who had come from one of the five surrounding dairy farms on their only night off. They had slicked back their hair, put on cologne, and brought their books and freshly sharpened pencils, looking more to me like students than illegal immigrants. Also attending our class was a Dutch-speaking dairy farm owner and his wife, Jan and Aukje. Before class and under Sister Ida’s 5’2” instruction, we held hands and said the Lord’s Prayer, first in English, then in Spanish, and then in Dutch. Although there were varying levels of education, age, and creed, it was the words that pulled us together: Our Father, Padre Neustro, Onze Vader. I realized the power that these words held, even though they were small and came from very different places..."