“Do you know _______ ?” asked one of my classmates in my Spanish class. “He’s one of your students.” I did, and he was.
“Oh, you’re American?” asked the waiter in a restaurant. “There were two Americans here yesterday. Do you know them?” I did. One of them was my roommate.
I was waiting to board a flight out of the Tangier airport, commiserating with the woman in line in front of me over flight delays and the possibility of missing our connections. She mentioned that she had just bought a house in the city where I live. I mentioned that I lived there.
“Oh, you don’t teach English at the university by any chance, do you?”
I stared at her like she was psychic. “Yes, I do. How did you know?”
“My neighbors have a daughter who just started her first year of college. I asked her how her classes were going and she said she has this professor who’s young and American and friendly.”
I have four hundred students, and I am one of only maybe ten Americans in my whole city. So I suppose I shouldn’t be too surprised that this happens. I guess I have to be super careful about my reputation!