The teacher I worked regularly with at my double-length school, formerly my next-door-neighbor before I switched apartments and a really cool and laid-back man who I really enjoyed working with and who very clearly loves his job, just came by my apartment with one of those large sturdy signing cards, bearing messages from every teacher and student in the tiny school, as well as a copy of the photograph of me with the student body. It’s completely in handwritten Japanese, and I can’t make out some of the kanji, but I still understand the general meaning and intent. I’m simultaneously smiling and crying right now. I’ll really miss that school, those students, and those teachers so dearly come April. I’m missing them right now.