Josh and Jeremiahs share a moment at the library in El Cedro, reflecting on how far their journey together has come—from afternoon classes to conversations now about the future.

It’s time to go. The windows have been shut, the lights have been turned off, backpacks are on backs, and we’re walking towards the door. Emelly is already in the doorway with Jeremiahs a few steps behind, while I take up the rear, ready to close the door and head home after a good day of teaching.

But Jeremiahs doesn’t reach the door. Instead, he veers to the left and leans over a stack of plastic chairs to view a partially covered map taped to the wall. It’s a map of San Salvador from the 1970s. I move the chairs out of the way and pretty soon, Jeremiahs has his phone’s flashlight out and Emelly has joined him in perusing this historical document of the city the two high school seniors travel to every day for school.

“Oh, that’s right. There’s a lot of new things around since the last time you two came here,” I say in Spanish.

They smile and we start reminiscing.

Back in September of 2022, I wrote an article about a washed-out road and how that initial inconvenience turned into a series of blessings, including walking and talking with two Salvadoran teenagers. Emelly and Jeremiahs were those teens.

At the time, it was the tail end of my first year and the two of them, then in ninth grade, were two of four students who regularly attended my afternoon enrichment classes. Without those four, I would’ve felt quite useless in my first year. They kept showing up and showing faith in me despite my deeply broken Spanish and difficulties to understand just about anything they said.

Jeremiahs and Emelly with Josh on graduation day from the local K-9th grade primary school.

Back then, I needed them more than they needed me. They helped me understand the Salvadoran school system and they taught me a lot of Spanish. They guided me through the back-road paths I didn’t know when the main road was impassable, and Emelly may have been the first person in El Cedro to greet me with a hug when she saw me.

Mission can be a lonely experience. Especially in the beginning. Language, culture, economics, and sometimes even distance can create significant obstacles for forming meaningful relationships and friendships.

Mission also requires an immense amount of vulnerability. In the United States, I was such a capable, independent person. But at first, in El Salvador, I didn’t know how to get around, I didn’t know how to communicate with people, I didn’t know where to buy basic items like paper towels or thumbtacks. I didn’t even know the right way to dispose of toilet paper (it’s different than in the States).

This initial, and occasionally recurring, helplessness totally changes the power dynamic usually present in volunteer, NGO, or outreach-related work. This is especially true when teaching. Teachers hold an inherent power over their students. It’s part of being an authority figure.

It’s never felt that way to me, though, with my students in El Salvador, especially the ones like Emelly and Jeremiahs who helped me so much in the early years. We aren’t peers. But the power dynamic is more balanced than with any students I’ve ever worked with before. They are still my teachers, as I am theirs.

An astute reader may ask, “If you’re so close with these kids, why haven’t they seen your classroom for so long?”

Back when I wrote the first article, the two of them where in ninth grade, which in Salvadoran public schools is the last grade of the local K-9th grade primary school. After that comes high school.

Not only are the high schools further away but classes run all day, where as primary school students go to school either in the morning or in the afternoon, not both.

So, when in 2023, Emelly and Jeremiahs went to high school, they couldn’t come to my afternoon enrichment classes anymore. I still saw them plenty at church and during other events and gatherings on the weekends. Along the way, I have continued to support their educations as much as much as possible in less consistent ways.

Now, however, they’re in their last year of high school and have both completed the mandatory internship hours that filled their weekday afternoons. Suddenly, their afternoons are free again.

With that extra time, they both have decided to join my computer classes on Wednesday afternoons. Because their schedule is more complex than the younger students in the group, they missed a day and came to the library on a Friday to recoup the lesson they missed.

The lesson focused on touch-typing and lasted an hour and a half. Before and after, they took in the new mural in the library (more on that to come), the new books on the shelves, and the map on the wall that called Jeremiah’s attention.

The library has grown since they last came.

So have they.

After reviewing the map, the three of us leave. My bus stop is on the way to where they live, so we walk down the same road that we walked down together three years ago (has it really been three years?).

As we walk, we talk about the same thing we talked about last time: their futures. This time, however, the subject isn’t high school, it’s college. Both of them will graduate from one of the top public schools in the area and plan to go to universities in El Salvador.

My contract ends in December and I’ll be going back to the United States. The first time, we had a conversation like this, I could only understand about half of what they said. I had real doubts about my ability to help them too.

This time, I know what they’re saying, but we all know that I won’t be in El Salvador by the time they start college. Even so, we talk about what schools they are thinking about and what they want to study. In the next few months, we’ll talk more as they make their final decisions.

I’ll get to finish my time in El Salvador with the same kids, I should say young adults now, that I started with. I’ll see Emelly and Jeremiahs regularly as they come to the weekly computer classes for the next few months. This time, I think I’ll be doing more teaching than they will.

It seems I’ve grown a lot too. Thanks to them.