It's Wednesday before Thanksgiving, and most of the class decided not to show up. Of those who did attend in the beginning, after we had to change classrooms because the internet was out in our usual spot, well, almost everyone left.
Maria was there, sitting in the front, with her little girl in the next desk behind her. The child has a piece of paper and a marker, and is totally concentrating on her doodling. She doesn't look up or around.
The English instructor is one desk over from the little girl. He looks at her and says, "Are you going to help me grade? That's great." He's smiling.
For just the briefest of the trickle of time, I was moved.
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