April ends with sweet confetti. The last day of the month, the last day of teaching (until July), the last day of a long period of disorganization and reorganization. A cool day, but a sunny day, a day of sailboats and paint colors.
Sweet things. First cotton candy, then ice cream at the Law School.
One more student presenting one more paper and then it’s over. For most of my students, mine was the last class they’ll ever attend in their lives. One tells me – yours was my first and yours was my last.
Sadly, I’ll likely never see him again.
I ask my class for a gift – to help me while I’m grading papers. I like music, but I don’t listen to the radio much and I don’t follow music trends. Write down a title of a song I should download and listen to. Put your name by it and I’ll associate it with you when you’re long gone into the attorney world.
I pack for home a list of songs scribbled on a yellow sheet of paper.
Evening. We’re out on the terrace – a group of my students and I, having a beer by the water, recalling the highs and lows of it all.
Remember when, in the first semester of law school you took us for a pizza and karaoke?
This graduating class began their tenure here at a time of tumoltuous changes for me. Teaching was a solid, teaching was good. I had 22 anchors in that class. Two and a half years later, I let them go. Off you run now, all of you Katherines and Kates and Aarons and Brandons and Neils, the whole lot of you – off you go.
And now we're in the last hours of the last day of April and there's nothing left but a song and a smile. And that's a good thing. I'm up for both.