After eight years of living and working in the Middle East where Christmas was (and still is) a typical work day, I recall having a difficult time adjusting to the frenetic holiday season here. The hustle and bustle of all-things-Christmas had been far removed from my reality for quite a while. While I perseverated over what to buy for whom, I felt flat, uninvolved, and devoid of “spirit.”

Even the multitude of versions of “I’ll Be Home for Christmas,” broadcast ad nauseum, couldn’t bring me around. What eventually touched me was an unexpected call from a former student who highlighted for me how important being a teacher really is.

Dorothy, it seems, had been tracking me down for quite a while. Dorothy had been a student in my freshman civics class in 1978, about four years into my teaching career. As a student funneled into the “business track,” Dorothy was pushed by the school structure and her family toward postsecondary employment, not education; college was “out of her ability range” and a luxury her family could not afford.

Dorothy, on the other hand, wanted more and switched tracks of her own accord. In an e-mail, she said she was assistant dean at an out-of-state university. She shared that I was an important person in her life and she would like to get together when she came “home” for the holidays.

On Christmas Eve, as I pulled into the mall parking lot, I remember thinking that I just couldn’t seem to relate; I felt so separate from all the seasonal goings-on. My cell phone rang. It was Dorothy. She wondered how spur-of-the-moment I could be – would I like to meet her at 3 p.m.

“Of course,” I said, thinking how nice it would be to see her. Since the moment I read her first e-mail, I struggled unsuccessfully to picture her, and worried I might not recognize her. We arranged to meet at the bookstore. Well, of course, both of us book lovers. Arriving, I chose a window seat. As soon as she entered, I recognized her immediately and signaled her over. We hugged, though she felt unsure in my arms. She introduced me to her husband and our visit began.

I learned about her and she about me since we had last seen each other, more than 20 years ago. She told me that it was impossible for her to think of high school without thinking of me; that I had been an oasis for her in my class of mostly peers without ambition.

She talked at length about the business track she was on – that it was so unchallenging and she felt she could do more. In precise, descriptive words, Dorothy also shared how lonely it was for her to have to walk across the classroom to her seat which was on the far side of the room. She said that because my standards were always high, she was able to focus and tune out the others. She was challenged by the readings and assignments that, when completed, gave her a sense of accomplishment she felt set her positively apart from the others and eventually made the walk across the classroom one of pride. She took my assignments very seriously and still remembered a book report I assigned. She told me several things I didn’t remember, like the fact that I wanted to be called Ms. Rado at a time when such a designation was relatively new. She said that the more academic kids regarded me as somewhat of a feminist, a groundbreaker, somewhat unusual.

Time passed quickly. I remarked, at times shocked by my own naivete and ignorance as a teacher, that I was truly sorry that I had not recognized her struggles – her quiet reserve and good girl demeanor were brushed over as I haggled with the many less ambitious students to just do something if they wanted to pass. I shared that I couldn’t think of anything more important in my professional career than the fact that she sought me out to tell me how influential I was in her life.

We finished our coffees and conversation, promising to keep in touch. We hugged again, this time with real vigor and there it was: the spirit of Christmas! Suddenly I felt the inner joy of the season. I was more elated than I had been in many Christmas seasons. Dorothy had given me the most special gift that anyone can give: she had given me a part of herself – a significant piece that involved my teaching, one that gave her the confidence to set and maintain high standards and become who she is today. She let me know that, for a short while, I had led the way for her. I never knew what an impact I had on Dorothy at the time.

As educators, we work hard to impact students’ lives. Often, we have no idea whether or not we do. Oh, we occasionally get a student who stays in touch for a while. But what about the students like Dorothy? The ones who say little, cause no problems, do whatever you ask and quietly achieve while you struggle to control the rest of the class?

Dorothy highlighted the fact that I have affected all of my students in some way. What it was about me in that class – how I acted, what I said – that made me different for her. I believe it was that I offered a piece of me to her and she accepted it. By doing so, I became real and accessible to her. I was honest, open and had the same unwavering high standards for all my students. I gave them the choice to accept. To Dorothy, I offered the opportunity to be transformed through learning and exhibited the enthusiasm of my own continued learning as an example of how exciting it could be. She grabbed it and took off.

Dorothy touched my heart, opened my mind and inspired me to continue in my field, knowing that I can make a difference because I have made a difference. May you rediscover your own significance in the classroom and feel the joy of making a difference in your students’ lives. Happy Holidays!

Barbara Rado Mosseau is a veteran educator from Monroe who has worked in Connecticut, Maine, Virginia, Washington, D.C., and overseas in the Caribbean, Central America and the Middle East. She is currently the superintendent of schools in SAD 3.