Last Dance

So my smooth ballroom teacher, Oleg, the same teacher I have had for over a year is leaving. Today I had my last lesson to him. I'm exhausted. My feet were killing me. I was limping. It was probably some of the worst dancing I've ever done, but with Oleg I won first place in two divisions at my first ballroom comp. In fact, in the highly competitive scholarship division we came in second place and won over a hundred dollars. And so, although Oleg will never read this I want to say thanks. I wish I had a video montage I could put here of all the good moments we had together, but since I don't let me say

Thanks for the oragami flowers, thanks for the stories about Russia, thanks for everytime you threw in an extra spin( or 4), just to screw with me, thanks for every time you made me smile against my will, thanks for every time you didn't mention how bad I fucked up, which was often, and thanks for ever time you noticed I did something well, thanks for every time you ran me into the wall, the mirror, the other students, the other teachers, or the coffee machine, thanks for noticing when I was a bad mood and trying to do something about it, thanks for teaching me words in Russian, thanks for sharing drinks with me at the competition, thanks for never mentioning my height, thanks for explaining the same things over and over again and not getting annoyed, and finally thanks for every time you took me in your arms

a teacher's job is never done and underpaid and not appreciated-but honestly as much as I miss you-you crazy Ruske-I hope that your move to Russia brings you everything you hope it will. Don't forget me, you schmuck.