There is an old student of mine who is in 7th grade now and who is a character. “B” was always doing things his own way.
B, who never picked up a book if he could help it.
B, who shoveled his way to school one day when it snowed and then locked the shovel to the bike rack.
B, who when asked why he had typed a document in all capital letters told me the computer didn’t have any lowercase ones. (look at your keyboard, he’s got a point.)
B, who when he was supposed to be home sick I spotted riding his bike back and forth in front of the school all hunched down as if on a spy mission.
B, who I have written several slices about over the years.
My friend B.
A few weeks ago I saw B outside of school getting his bike from the bike rack. He looked to be in a good mood and I greeted him as I usually do.
“Hi B! How’s it going?”
“Good Mrs. M. How are you?”
“I’m great B! Listen, can you do me a favor this weekend?” I said as I eyed his increasingly dirty sweatshirt. “You might want to wash your sweatshirt because you have a few coffee and donut stains on the front.” I said with a big smile. Everyone knows I always end up with a coffee stain on my shirt too.
B looked at me stunned. “H- How did you know they were coffee and donut stains?”
“I know you B.”
His eyes opened wider. “How do you know me?” It was an odd question. He seemed truly stunned and I couldn’t tell if he was teasing me or not.
“Well, B we spent a whole year together in fifth grade.”
A light of remembrance shone on his face. “Oh yeah, you were my teacher.” I nodded, a smile playing at my lips. “I think you were my favorite,” he said.
“Thanks B! Have a good day,” I replied. You were one of my favorites too.