Finals

Here are a few test takers, waiting to see how hard the questions will be. Their expressions changed after I told them they had to name every book ever written.

God, I'm so zany. No, I forgot, I'm QUIRKY.

In truth, I thought the test was pretty easy.

So did these two. Or maybe they're just happy to be getting away from me at long last. The girl on the left, Dawn, walks in nearly every day and says the same thing. "You're going to kill me."

"Did you hit my car?" I ask.

"No."

"Then I'm not going to kill you." It's cute the way they think I am so invested in bibliographic entries. I am , of course, but not EVERY minute.

This bunch thought the test was a beast.

Oh, pshaw and come now.

Every semester I see some sad things and some happy things. Young people who are persevering under extremely adverse circumstances. Others who are being forced by their parents to attend. At least one student per semester writes to me of a loved one killed in a car accident. I never knew there were so many fatalities. It scares me. Love blooms in front of my eyes sometimes. I have actually helped it along, though they never would have guessed. The only thing is I never get to see how it turns out.

Some of our vocabulary selections this semester were: reticent, pretentious, splayed (I begged them not to pick that one), perpetuate, vindicate, boisterous, coquette (everyone liked that one, but I think they just liked to see me bat my eyelashes), acquire (CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT ONE? They pulled one over on me for sure), irritable (SAME), and I guess I've forgotten the rest.

I won't forget them, though. At least not until I get their grades entered.

A bientot

love,

becky