When people think about being an auxiliar in Spain, they usually picture the big things. Traveling on weekends. Living in Europe. Learning Spanish. Exploring new cities.
And yes, those things are all amazing. But no one really prepares you for the emotional moments. The small ones that sneak up on you when you least expect them. The ones that might actually bring you to tears, but in a really beautiful way.
If you’ve ever worked with kids, you already know they have a certain kind of energy. Spanish kids, though, take that energy to another level. They’re curious, loud, honest, energetic, and completely unfiltered.
From the moment you arrive at school, they notice you. You’re new, you speak differently, you look different, and suddenly you’re the most interesting person in the building. They’ll wave to you in the hallway, shout “Good morning!” from across the playground, or run up just to say hi.
Sometimes they’ll even run up and hug you before you fully realize what’s happening. And the funny thing is, you can’t help but mirror their energy. Their excitement becomes contagious. You start your morning with students yelling “Hello!” and by the end of the day, you’re laughing with them, helping them practice English, and somehow feeling like you’ve become part of their little world.
By the time the school year starts coming to an end, something shifts. You realize this wasn’t just a job or a program. You built real relationships with these kids.
I remember toward the end of my first year in NALCAP, sometime around April or May, my teachers started taking pictures of me with the students. At the time, I didn’t think much of it. I assumed it was just something they needed for the program or documentation.
Little did I know, they were planning something for my last day. On my final day at the school, my main teacher took me outside for a few minutes. I thought we were just chatting or waiting for something. In reality, he was distracting me while something else was happening inside.
After a moment, music started playing from inside the building. He smiled and told me I could go back in. When I walked through the doors, I completely froze.
The students had lined up from the first floor all the way up the staircase to the second floor. Every hallway was filled with kids. They were waving at me, calling my name, holding drawings they had made for me. Some of them were asking for my autograph like I was some kind of celebrity. I’m tearing up even writing this now.
It was one of the most surreal and wholesome moments I’ve ever experienced. I didn’t want it to end. My teachers were filming the whole thing while I walked through what basically felt like a parade of students. The kids were hugging me, handing me their drawings, smiling, shouting goodbye. Meanwhile, I was pretty much ugly crying my way through the hallway.
After the parade, my school director came over and handed me a small booklet. Inside were all the photos they had been secretly taking of me with the students throughout the year. They had printed them out and put them together as a little memory book.
Inside the book was also a thank-you note from the school for everything I had done with the kids. I still have that book today, and I will probably keep it forever.
Moments like that remind you that what you’re doing actually matters. Even if you feel like you’re just playing games in English class or helping students pronounce words correctly, those kids remember you. They see you, and they make sure you feel it.
I’ve kept every single drawing a student has ever given me. Every little note, every scribbled picture, every tiny “thank you.” One day, I want to have a box filled with all of them. What makes it even more special is that this all happened in a small pueblo. Those small towns sometimes have the biggest hearts.
At the end of the day, this experience really becomes what you make of it. You can show up, do your hours, and leave. Or you can connect with the students, laugh with them, learn from them, and become part of their memories. I think about those kids all the time.
And from what I’ve heard, they think about me too. Apparently, sometimes they even call the new auxiliar by my name. Which honestly makes my heart melt a little. So when people say the auxiliar experience is unforgettable, they’re not exaggerating. Because sometimes the thing that stays with you the most isn’t the travel or the adventure.
It’s the moment when a hallway full of kids waves goodbye… and you realize you meant something to them, too.
Love always,
American Girl Meets World
P.S. Read my letter I wrote to the school here: Scooters, Smiles, and So Much Love: Gracias, CEIP Sant Pere Apòstol
