"Claudia, I don't mean to sound like a tourist bureau," my employer said, "but have you given any thought to moving back to U-town?"
Claudia looked thoughtful, as if she was not sure this was appropriate. But, as she had just said, we had come a long distance to help her.
"Yes," she said, "we have talked about it. But I really don't want to think about where to live until I've figured out what I want to do."
Jan smiled and said, "Si je m'habille parfois un peu trop, d'avoir parfait un surcroît d'éducation le fait oublier aux yeux du monde."
Claudia shook her head. "I'm reasonably certain that there are already French translations of Oscar Wilde. I don't–"
"I'm not suggesting that. I think you should be a teacher."
"I do hate to disappoint you, but I don't really care for children."
She shrugged. "Neither do I. Except for my own, of course. But 'education' doesn't automatically mean children. We have adult education, and we need a lot more."
"Don't you need some sort of certification or a specialized degree or something like that?"
"Not for our school."
Claudia looked thoughtful, and Erika took her hand. "You should do this," she said quietly. "We should do it. We should go home, to our home, and live in your parents' rooms. That's what we should do."
Claudia looked both surprised and pleased at this sudden vehemence from Erika. Erika's smile was broad, and Claudia's lips moved as she tried to control her own expression. She turned to us, still holding Erika's hand. "Apparently I don't have much choice," she said. Then she frowned thoughtfully. "Also," she said slowly, "I do think a better translation would be 'S'il m'arrive de porter des vêtements d'une excessive élégance, c'est que mon éducation l'est tout autant.'"
Jan inclined her head in agreement.
"You have a child?" Claudia asked in some surprise, as if Jan's earlier comment had just registered with her.
"I do. We do. And once you meet her, you'll be glad you decided to teach adults."