Stop asking me about your homework. Stop asking me if you were funny, or good, or rude or whatever. Stop asking me to notice you and pay attention to you.
You asked me if I had heard the sad news. I knew what you meant. You are leaving to go to another school. And you really want me to be sad, so I will act sad for you and make you feel good. But inside I am so happy. Your mom made excuses because she probably thought I would take offense or feel shocked, but I was so happy. I’m glad you won’t be in class to try and be the exception to every rule.
Yes, you have to wear the mask over your whole face. No, telling me your nose is delicate won’t make me put the mask higher so you can peer under it and cheat again. If you can’t wear it right you don’t have to play. You don’t get to be the special one.
You won’t be in class to talk all the time and take twenty minutes to tell a story and irritate the heck out of me. You are a kind of person I really don’t like, and I’m glad I won’t have to force myself to smile and take notice of you next semester.
You won’t be in class to make me feel like a bad teacher for getting frustrated and short with you when you purposely derail the class.
I love you, in a people way, but I am glad you’re gone.
Sorry, S.K. Goodbye, S.K.