My Last Class With Henrik

Dear Henrik,
       In Soviet Russia, you don't write letters; letters write you. ..

  That's just one of many jokes we like to make. He was a student of mine for the past 2 years and now he has left to go back to his home country with his family.

   Seven O'clock was our time in the summer where we meet for two hours for me to tutor him in English. This time I brought paints with a cool metallic sheen and some brushes. We were going to paint our clay creations we made five days before.

   Mine was a turtle and his was a bird. Both fell apart over the weekend, so the super glue was handy. Henrik's bird was very detailed. Last Thursday, he had made each feather, one- by- one, and attached them to the body. Then he made the wings and legs.

   My turtle is nothing to talk about. It merely has four legs, a tail and a face with a smile.

  As we were working, we read a short story from an old text book called "The Dog of Pompeii".

  The painting was a fun part. It took the whole of two hours. "The Dog of Pompeii" was talked about and read in intervals.

 At the end Henrik's mother took a picture of us. I took the picture of our creations and gave Henrik my turtle. He asked me if I was sure and I said "The picture is a enough."

He replied "What if it falls apart again?"

"Well, Henrik. I think you know how to put it back together again."

  I didn't think my student wanted me to leave because he kept avoiding the subject and adding more to the conversation. This was our last meeting.

  I hugged Henrik's mom and shook hands with his father. Then I asked Henrik, "Let's shake hands."
and he said, "My hands have super glue on them," when we shook.