Office Cleaning

I decided to tackle one of the boxes of old exams and papers that reside under my 'work table'--i.e., the table I'd use for working if it weren't covered with papers and books from current classes. I work through stacks and stacks of paper, recalling face after face as I read the names on the envelopes. I wonder what became of some of them. I see a few around campus from time to time. Sometimes I remember the names; most of the time I don't.

The ones that are left, like from Fall 07, weren't picked up by the students who wrote them. That's fine. I open each one, taking out paper clips so I can stick the paper in the recycle bin. I look at the green ink on the cover pages, comments that I made, attempts at jokes, encouragement and frank appraisal . . . written only for me, in the end.

I fear I'm sounding like Jaques! I'd rather be Orlando, but I fear that's not my role to play.