I was walking back to school from an appointment off-campus this afternoon just a little while after the dismissal bell, and several students passed me going in the opposite direction. Perhaps it was my sunglasses, or perhaps it was their eagerness to begin an afternoon of freedom, but I strode forward in seeming anonymity until at last one eighth grade girl who had been in my homeroom two years ago turned around a half a block away from me and shouted my name. I turned, and the smile on her face was so sweet that I lifted my shades, smiled back, and waved.
It is nice to be known.
It is nice to be known.
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