Dear Mr. T,
definitely, I love you very much.
I'd never do it in front, or else much later, when one of us will retire.
one hand, imagine how easily it will leave you incredulous, even embarrassed, and secondly, I fear to distort this balance between what is fair if, you, the function and embodies what you leave to shine an honest soul and probably tender.
You have always reminded of the flame of a Bunsen burner, thin, stealthy, incorruptible, indestructible. You always call me Doctor
in public and in private conversation, dear Doctor writing and I make sure to call you Sir in front of children, which does not cost me any effort.
There are endless reasons why I love you very much. There
eg small C. who had just become stuck his finger in the door when I went into the school. I felt what you felt before this phalanx that did more than a flap, but it felt as C, it was that he was safe in your arms, you would have taken hours for had it been necessary. I felt your fear, your emotion and confidence throughout those long moments when we waited for rescue around a precarious and dressing a child stroking the plush that you took the time to find.
I love you very much for Johnny who also was not an angel and G. you made a completely different way, where two other schools had thrown in the towel. Without illusion, without scandal or their failure, nor ours, patiently, you have kept open until the doors of that agency. They left accompanied by you, the words that you posed at length about their achievements and efforts. He had subsequently, we police a bit so you do not always send all hopeless cases.
And above all, I love you for Y. I must tell you that one, when I first saw it, she was 9 years old, she was profile, makeup and she sucked his thumb. Abused, then resumed in a maelstrom of adult heartbreak, she stood miles away from itself, paralyzed off in what had become meaningless to her.
That was months she could not come to school. You left to come in the interstices, the lobby, the extracurricular. You gave him a place in the class, a coat rack in his name, homework. She came back a little, then completely. It took us over a year. And every time we meet, knowing that probably more history than myself, you do spoken only of the student. That the good student she was, almost despite herself.
Dear Mr. T, you've probably done more Latin than me. But in the few things I know, there is this paradoxical choice between educere, raise, train and educate Seducere, segregate, separate, seduce.
A child seduced and aside, you offered a place, all the resources of your toolbox and your egalitarian educational firm. And I must begin to know you a little to guess the extent of a compassion that was manifested not only by acquiescence a little more determined, whenever that is to you that when asked by an extra effort and your thoughtful air, when you close the file until the next meeting.
course, there was, there are still many people around there, the psychiatrist in charge of tutoring through the judge and educator. But I wonder who among us can claim to have been so deeply, so daily, if you care surreptitiously.
Who do not even know without a doubt.
And that's why I'm going to classify this letter in my Tag 52 letters of rupture with the National Education because I am not at all sure that she is no longer realize that the treasure could be someone like you.
I would say none of this, or look in a long time, because it is tiresome to be the honor of a profession. And then, like Y, J, G, or are left are better, I see that you're already headed towards something else.
Mr. T, I love you very much.
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