Walking into Starbucks, you can hear my pre-coffee tiredness: shoes dragging on coffee stained cement, saying sorry to no one after opening the door and hitting my own head, and the
“Mr. Davis!…Mr. Davis!…Mr. Davis!!!”
I see a blur come racing towards me as the five people ahead of me turn around, mad that I have unknowingly interrupted their pre-coffee ritual of catching up on their vicarious life on Facebook.
It’s a former student, from about two years ago.
I absolutely LOVE seeing and talking to former students.
However, I rarely know what to talk about. After the obligatory, “How are you doing?” I seemingly ask the same stock questions: “So, how’s Cypress High treating you?” , “How’s the boys/girls treating you?”, and “How’s everyone else? Catch me up on _________________________________.”
That often takes about three minutes.
“Mr. Davis!…Mr. Davis!…Mr. Davis!!!” Another former student walks in.
Then a few uncomfortable, awkward moments for both of us. This is where I struggle the most. Where do we go from here? Yeah, I know, just ask more questions. But what questions? I am not so good at asking questions.
I feel bad that things do not go more smoothly, like when I talked to my students when they were in my class.
“Mr. Davis!…Mr. Davis!…Mr. Davis!!!” Another former students comes over to me while I am waiting for my half-calf with a twist of lemon. (I got the French Roast, fully caffeinated…I just love the above line from LA Story)