The sun is gone and I need a light

I'm not sure how much my little Alisa weighs but I can play catch with her without even breathing heavy. To say that her smile lit up my UCLA class does not properly describe how cute this girl is. She didn't much like English and was a horrible student, although a four year old laying on the table, dancing in circles at random and unable to speak her native language should hardly be called a student. With Alisa, I really felt like a day care teacher. Still, as disobedient as she could be, Alisa never stopped smiling and neither did I. At times, I knew I should get angry with her but, just then, she would pop out of her chair, run up to the board, take my marker and start impersonating me by jumping up and down and entertaining all of us with her baby squeaks and unmatched joy. And my laughter doesn't lie, I can't be cross with this girl. I was crushed when I was told by a Korean teacher that Alisa had been transferred. Her parents found a cheaper, more demanding Hagwan and, just like that, my sun had gone. Now I'm suffering the same fate all teachers before me have known. We remain and remember while they leave and forget. So young, she may never think of me again, but it will be difficult for me to forget that face and the happiness it gave me the past 6 months. Let's all have a moment of silence for the most adorable, silly, dancing mini-Korean muffin I've ever known.