December 26, 2022

Dear Mrs. Lupsaiu,

I actually knew about you long before high school.

I heard countless stories from my brother and his friends about how you were a really great teacher who cared a lot about her students.

But they also gave me a warning.

They said you were one of the scariest teachers at King High School.

There were rumors going around that before you became a teacher at King, you used to be a sniper in Romania.

Some said you were the best sniper in Romania before you fled to pursue teaching.

Others even said you kept a sniper rifle hidden away somewhere in your classroom.

So going into high school, when I saw that you were my teacher for Precalculus,

I was intimidated.

And a bit scared.

I was just a clueless little freshman whose imagination had painted baseless pictures of you inside my head.

It didn’t help that when I walked into your classroom on that first day,

I saw that my assigned seat was right in the front.

Right next to you.

—

As I got to know you more throughout the school year,

I started to confirm some of my preconceptions about you.

Just like my brother said, you were a great (and strict) teacher.

And just like the rumors said, you told our class you used to be a sniper back in Romania.

But it didn’t take long for me to realize that underneath all my preconceptions of you,

there was something more.

Something deeper.

Something that no one had told me about before.

Buried under the rumors and my imagination, there was a really great person and mentor.

In the classroom, your constant encouragements and compliments motivated me to study in ways that I never studied before.

You would frequently tell me that I was one of the best students you’ve had over the many years you’ve been teaching, and whether that was true or not, it brought a smile to my face.

I would always walk out of your classroom feeling excited for the next day, and I found myself wanting to come back to your class to learn more and more.

Outside the classroom, you taught me to stand firm in my opinions and I really enjoyed the times when you would share your unfiltered thoughts.

You would complain about America’s education system, the things you wish you could fix at King, and what I could do to make a difference.

I would always walk out of your classroom feeling inspired, feeling like I could do something to make a change in the world around me.

—

Our relationship continued even throughout my sophomore year when you were my teacher for Calculus.

When I missed class because of tennis matches, you were always willing to stay after school ended to cover the material I missed, and our talks about math would lead into talks about my family, my career, and my future.

Whenever I visited your classroom, you told me I could sleep on the couch in your room if I ever needed a quick break, and that I could store my books or clothes in your cabinets if I ever needed some storage space.

You cared for me like a mother.

I remember when I first told you that I was going to Cornell, I thought you would congratulate me, but you told me that I should’ve been going to Harvard or MIT instead haha.

But immediately after, you told me that the winters at Cornell are cold and that I would need a thick parka and winter boots.

You started looking up different stores where I could buy a parka and boots, and you told me to go to a place that you went with your son a couple weeks ago because they have the best deals.

And before I left for college, you told me to buy one more thing.

You told me to bring you a magnet from Cornell.

A souvenir that you could display in your classroom.

—

My freshman year of college was packed with new and exciting changes, and there was so much I wanted to share with you about.

So with the magnet in my hand,

I went to visit you as soon as I got back home from college.

But your familiar classroom looked a little different this time around.

Your door was always propped open, but this time it was closed.

Your lights were always bright and welcoming, but this time it was dark.

Your desk was always occupied by a familiar face, but this time it was empty.

I found out soon after that you weren’t feeling well.

My heart dropped when I heard your cancer prognosis wasn’t great.

I wish there was more time.

I never got the chance to fully express how thankful I am to you.

How thankful I am to you for guiding my aspirations.

How thankful I am to you for caring for me like a mother.

How thankful I am to you for affirming who I was and for encouraging me to find my place in this world.

I really wish there was more time.

I have so much to share with you and update you about.

I never bought winter boots but I bought a really thick parka that kept me warm during my first winter in New York.

And I think I finally found what I want to study and what to do with my career.

—

Stay strong, Mrs. Lupsaiu.

I’ll be waiting for the day you return to your classroom.

The day your door is propped open again and your lights welcome me in.

The day you’re sitting back at your desk with your familiar smile warming the room.

And when that day comes,

I’ll be back.

Back to say hi,

Back to say thank you,

And of course,

back to give you your magnet.

Missing you,

James

Mrs. Lupsaiu
May 2021

- James Kim

Shortly after I wrote this, Mrs. Lupsaiu passed away on January 11, 2023.

My heart hurts over the fact that you can never know when the last time will be.

When the last goodbye will be.

Thank you, Mrs. Lupsaiu.

You will be missed.