An Ancient Rolodex in My Brain

Student walks up to the research desk and starts to ask a question, but it’s clear we recognize each other, even though neither of us is quite sure from where. I answer his question and he turns to walk away, but then turns back, which triggers more familiarity.

“Mr. Lucas?” he asks, as I nod.

“Was it Aiden?” I ask, as he nods. “How are you, bud?”

Setting aside the fact that I somehow pulled his name out of an ancient rolodex in my brain, seeing only his eyes over the mask on his face, I kinda figured this day would come at some point, bumping into an old student, all grown up. Turns out, he was one of my seventh grade coding kids and he’s now a junior at UCF, majoring in computer science. Go figure.

I’m not saying this is why we teach, to be seen or remembered years later, but it’s pretty cool, knowing you played a small part in anyone’s journey, let alone the nearly 2,000 Florida kids I’ve taught over the past decade. He told me mine was his favorite class in middle school.

Whew.