For some reason, lots of former students have been dropping by to visit. They don't seem to be hearing about it from others and deciding to do the same thing the following afternoon, but they are coming in droves. Sometimes independently. Sometimes in small groups.
Which leads me to believe I may die soon. Ken will say a few words at my funeral, "I know her students really loved her because they would stop by and visit her in the classroom. I don't know WHY they did that because I never would have visited any of MY old teachers in a million YEARS."
Teenagers need someone other than their parents to just listen to them. They confess everything. They tell me how much they love their seminary teachers (seminary teachers, if you could only see their faces when they light up in such a genuine way...they adore the way you teach the gospel..you are getting through!). They tell me who's hot...and who's not. They tell me how much all the teachers at the high school swear (in every class). They tell me they've failed their driver's test seven times. They tell me they're not sure if they will serve a mission. They tell me they've never finished a book in their entire lives (Except Divergent!...but no interest in the next installment). They tell me their older sister is pregnant and living with her boyfriend but she has her CNA and one year done at the local university.
They ask if I still take my students to the cave!
One asked what grade I teach. I said, "Fifth. I was your FIFTH grade teacher!" He says, "Really?!? Are you sure it wasn't third?" I'm sure. Then he says, "I don't remember ANYTHING about elementary school except you." They ask if I remember that they missed a week and a half of school after they had their tonsils out because of all the bleeding. No, I don't remember, but now that you mention it...a vague reference is coming to the surface.
They are darling.
3 hours ago