“You know I once had a friend. He has a School of Language in Harlem.”
“He was a man who can speak three languages, very smart! He is Black, you know, his name is W.W. Smith.”
I nodded my head while listening to him.
“He asked me one day.” as he continued.
“You speak Spanish?”
“I said, Yes.”
“Why don’t you come to my school and teach Spanish?”
“Then I started teaching in his school and I would come three times a week from 7pm to 9pm from my work. “You know I worked at the American Airlines as a Senior Mechanic.” “I really love to teach and everybody liked me, you know.”
I smiled at him with a nod and, I saw him smiled back with content, yet with a sigh. “I wonder if he is still alive now,” He said.
I suddenly saw a melancholic look on his face, and I interrupted.
“So, you really liked teaching, and everybody likes you. I am sure, you’re an excellent teacher,”I said.
He looked at me with so much confidence and pride, and replied, “Yes, I am.” I taught in that school for almost four years.”How I really liked it, and I made good money.”
“You liked it because you made good money? Is that what it is?” I asked him. He then stared at me like a real teacher with authority and felt of myself as his student. He pointed at me and with his deep voice, he asserts, “You know, it’s not really about the money alone. It’s the LOVE of doing what you do. Money will just follow.”
He looked at me with a smile, reached out his hand on the side table and took a sip of tea, he then leaned back to his chair. He closed his eyes. I quickly made a sketch of him.
I just learned a lesson from the Wise. He is right, and he reminds me of my father. If only he was alive. Sigh.
(It’s Not The Money.Copyright.2017.All rights Reserved)