It was a little past eleven in the morning by the time this meal was ready.  This time three years ago, I’d still have the pillow over my eyes to block out whatever sunlight made it past the shutters.  And then my mom would march into my room again, rollers in, pleading me not to be late for 11:30 mass again.

At 9:30 am this morning, I promptly sprang out of bed, brushed my teeth, and began my new Sunday morning ritual.

The many reasons why I love teaching present themselves throughout any day like a revolving door of simple pleasures.  On this particular day, spinning through that door was the realization that one day I would be a father.

Today marked the arrival of the Council of International Schools, which meant thirty universities from the United States visiting our high school in Shenzhen for the rare chance of attending an American college fair.  Students arrived to their classrooms at 07:40 with pressed shirts and clean jackets, ready to leave strong first impressions, but as I passed by their door, a pair of boys flagged me over in distress.  After a few successful attempts of wrinkling, untangling and stretching their ties, the boys’ trial-and-error approach to a proper knot finally lost its charm; they had ten minutes to report to the auditorium to begin the college fair, and desperation was setting.