My sister asked her if she ever had me as a teacher.  She couldn’t remember what class I even taught her, but she knew that she had.  My pride was wounded a bit at the idea that the hours upon hours I spent teaching weren’t memorable.  The question wasn’t what was the favorite thing I taught her, simply what class did I teach.

What she did remember was that at the end of the semester, I wrote every senior a card.  It was the only year I ever did that.  Apparently, that spoke louder than the arguments for God’s existence, Church teachings, and problem of evil discussions.   Continue reading “What They Remember” →