Saying goodbye

There are certain advantages to having a poor memory for names, faces, and dates, like I do. For every student whose name you can't recall when you meet them in the student center -- or whom you ask about graduation when they're actually finishing their freshman year -- there's the peaceful, untroubled illusion that favorite students never really left. If you can't remember that they graduated, then you don't necessarily miss them, now, do you?

So I won't say goodbye to Leah, Garrett, Karyna, Jenn, Brian, Eric, Charlie, Erica, Gretchen, and the other seventy-odd Honors graduates this year. As far as I'm concerned, they're off in somebody else's class, just a semester away from enrolling in another course with me. In fact, I'll keep expecting them to drop by my office next week to catch up. Friends, colleagues, former students ... don't disturb my happy illusion. Because then I'll just be sad you're gone.

Until I forget again. Ah, blessed fuzzy details.