The group grew from a few to many. We hauled up seven flights of stairs, through a corridor and into a closet stacked with old furniture. Through a dirty window, students and a teacher got their first glimpse of ancient Greece.
The Acropolis beamed its light, its majesty, its almost incomprehensible history to a handful of teenagers from America. Ms. U asked, "What war was the parthenon built after?"
"The last Persian War."
Another student, "I can see Pericles giving his speech to the Athenians."
I waited my turn to maneuver through the tables stacked on top of each other. We couldn't believe there wasn't a patio, or at least big picture windows to view and gasp at the passage and preservation of time.
The next morning at 3:00 a.m., when I awoke and couldn't fall back to sleep for two hours and couldn't turn on the light because my roommate was asleep, all I could do was think. I realized the encounter between teacher, knowledge, and experience, had come together in one magical moment. My eyes filled with tears--for being a part of that moment.