In 1992, I began teaching at a school in Brooklyn, Mark Twain Intermediate. The diversity was wonderful and exciting. My unit on Cinderella was going well. Each week, I’d make copies and distribute a variant (version) from a different country. Often, students would recognize the origin. “I know this!” “My grandmother told me this!” I had one student, however, who seemed depressed. He had recently come to America with his family from Iraq. The Gulf War was less than a year old and some students were harassing him. So I did research and discovered an Iraqi version. Loved it! It was funny and scatological. (The bad step-sisters are given a strong laxative to drink and it takes effect during the ball. Don’t ask!) I passed out the story and watched the growing smile of recognition on my student’s face. “This is from my country!” A lively world comparative literature discussion followed, lots of laughs. I miss my students. I miss teaching.