Forget You and Forget Him Too

I was at the grocery store one day when I heard a man saying, “Hey.  Hey!  Do I know you?”  I turned and saw the father of a student I had this year.  I said, “Yes.  You know me.  I was ________’s teacher this year.”  Small talk followed.  During the year there had been meetings, phone calls, notes, field trips and all manner of interactions, but within a month of graduation, he had forgotten me. 

He’s not the first parent to forget me.  Another woman, who I emailed weekly, called frequently, and to whose husband my class sent care packages while he was stationed overseas, saw me in the gym and asked if she had met me at the local newspaper’s job fair. I had to remind her that I had been her son's teacher.

I was at the used book store one afternoon and, as I was walking to my car, a woman drove by and I thought, “That looks like _______’s mom.”  And it was.  We held up traffic for a few minutes as we swapped stories and I heard about all the wonderful things her boys are doing.  We talked about Ireland, too.  Her boys left my classroom four and eight years ago, but she knew exactly who I was and that I have a thing for Ireland.

It’s a funny thing.  Every year there are good relationships with students and parents.  Every year there are bad relationships, too.  I always worry about seeing the people who didn’t like me out in public, but more often than not, they don’t remember me.  I wish I could forget them as easily as they forget me.  I wish being thankful for the good ones would come as easily to me as worrying over the rough ones.