Wednesday afternoon was my 4th year students' graduation. The event marked the split between students going to bachillerato, or what's considered 11th and 12th grade in the States, and trade school. They stay in the same class from elementary through their 4th year of high school, so being separated was an emotional experience for a lot of them.

It was a small ceremony held in the school's auditorium -- I think only one or two kids' parents came and the entire event lasted all of 45 minutes. The administrators read a few nice, yet predictably vague and optimistic speeches. One of my students sang a duet with another girl accompanied by a guitarist, covering a few pop songs arranged by the music teacher. They then crossed the stage, shook hands or kissed cheeks and received their diplomas. There was a brief montage (I made a handful of cameo appearances) and that was it. My teaching career, finished.

Looking on from the crowd, I couldn't help but notice how far they'd come in just the past year. What struck me most was how grown-up they looked and acted -- their ripped jeans and graphic tees were traded in for dresses, suit jackets, bowties and rompers. The girls wore makeup and the boys combed their hair. They were nervous, excited, nostalgic and everything between. They thanked me individually, gave me a card, chocolates and a standing ovation. I wished them a teary goodbye, not out of sadness or the passing of time, but out of how proud I was of the people they're becoming.

We met up again later at a local tapas bar, which served up massive platters of delicious, cheap bar food. We hung out, took dozens of photos and had a lot of laughs. It felt like the perfect sendoff -- the other professors and I kissed them goodbye, exchanged contact info and wished them the best as they ran off to buy beer and bottom shelf vodka from the convenience store to drink in the park. It was a re-affirmation that, yes, moving on sucks, but that what lies ahead will be as good as what we've left behind -- a figurative push for them out the door into adulthood.

Though I'd only spent 9 months with them, I'm proud the job I did. I mean, if the sendoff had been easy, it would've signified an inability to connect with the students, a problem that some of my co-workers experienced, and to me, a complete waste of our potential as positive role models. Sharing this precious stretch of time with them has changed me, as it was probably the only time in my life where the work I did had felt truly rewarding. Watching them apply themselves daily, overcoming the limited expectations placed on them and making learning fun (jeez, what a concept) was rewarding unto itself.

I hope they'll continue to learn and push themselves as they had this year, because they are a genuinely smart, hardworking, friendly and supportive group of students. I wish them boundless happiness and satisfaction in their adult lives and look forward to hearing their success stories in the future, of which there'll be many.

Enhorabuena, chicos. Os echaré de menos.

Querido Quevedo...en Español

At the behest of my lovely/talented/miracle-worker Spanish tutor, I am finally confident and competent enough to write and post pieces in Spanish. Here is my first piece: a light read about 'Serial,' podcast culture and its potential use as an ESL teaching tool. Not a perfect article and not something I'll do consistently, but I'm still decently proud of it nonetheless.

Estoy pensando en Baltimore, una ciudad en la que vivía, pero no por las razones normales – la pobreza asfixiante, la brutalidad policial ni por nostalgia – sino por un asesinato que ocurrió hace 15 años. Estoy escuchando el podcast más popular del mundo, Serial, que trata de la muerte de una chica Coreana-Americana – Hae Min Lee – de los fallos del sistema judicial de los Estados Unidos, y así como de  su ex-novio – Adnan Syed – quien fue acusado del crimen, y  lleva 15 años la cárcel. Al día de hoy, Adnan todavía se declara inocente.

Sarah Koenig, una periodista, es la guía de este mundo turbulento. Su interés en el crimen fue iniciado al recibir un correo electrónico sobre la abogada de Adnan – su licencia fue revocada después de unas acusaciones de corrupción y Adnan era su ultimo cliente. Por curiosidad pura, Koenig indagó un poco – nadie había encontrado evidencias que conectaran Adnan con el asesinato de su ex. El único testigo era un narcotraficante, y su testimonio se contradice con el de Adnan.

Adanan siempre era un estudiante popular y dedicado a sus estudios, actividades extracurriculares y sus amigos. Dice que estaba en la biblioteca después de las clases y antes de su entrenamiento con su equipo cuando ocurrió el asesinato, pero nadie le creía salvo sus amigos inmediatos y sus compañeros de clase. Entonces, el trabajo de Koenig es buscar la verdad – que ocurrió durante una mera hora después del instituto hace 15 años. Como podéis imaginar, es una hazaña muy difícil.

La voz tranquilizante de Koenig narra las entrevistas, conecta las pistas y ofrece momentos de claridad, y a veces, humor (aunque un humor muy negro).  Habla cuidadosamente y elige sus palabras para que su audiencia le entienda mejor, y es perfecto para estudiantes avanzados de la lengua inglesa. Todo el mundo le escucha en el metro, en sus coches y en la oficina. Es una verificable estrella de la radio – un titulo escaso en el año 2015 – y una historia inolvidable.