Thank you

One of my favorite people at Camino Nuevo is Ismael. He wears black pants, a thin white dress shirt unbuttoned about half way down his chest, and a heavy gold chain with a cross hanging from it. He speaks almost no English, but his English skills are far superior to my nearly non-existant Spanish ones.

Every afternoon, when he comes into my classroom from the side door, he acts genuinely surprised to see me. Startled is more like it. Then he asks, with all the proper charm of Fitzwilliam Darcy, "Is okay I come in?"

Ismael asks my permission to clean my classroom. My permission to clean.  I always say, "Yes, of course, come in, Ismael, how are you today?" We banter back and forth for a minute or two as he starts in on the enormous glass wall covered in handprints and the floor littered with pencil erasures, food wrappers, and discarded pencils. He wears gloves for this process.

Two things move me about Ismael. First, he treats my classroom like it is a sanctuary. He is as thoughtful, careful, and reverent about his job as any person I've ever met. Second, the man works like a dog. There are nights when I stay on campus pretty late, but I'm never the last person to leave. That would be Ismael. Once dark sets in, I see him trundling enormous garbage bins across the courtyard. He is unrelentingly polite to me when I go, despite the fact that I'm headed home, while he's elbow deep in teen-generated trash.

Thank you, Ismael. You are kind and uncomplaining in world that sees precious little of these characteristics. I am honored to work with you.