Forget About It

I'm reading The Blind Side and the kid says,

"People ask me if I ever reach the top will I forget about them? So I ask people if I don’t reach the top will y’all forget about me?"

 

Forget About It

I said something terrible the other day. We watched a video and I laughed and told the class:

I don't remember that student's name. I don't remember that student's name. Or that student's name. And it wasn't a lie. I couldn't think of their names off the top of my head.

So here's how I sleep at night:

Let's just run the numbers. Two classes every semester, that's 70 students. So every year that's 140 students. After five years, that's 700 students. Not to mention the four classes of sophomores, that's 120 every year. After six years, that's 720 students. So that's over 1400 students in six years.

I mean, my heart is big, but c'mon...

Plus I have to remember my wife's birthday, what grades my kids are in, my social security number, my anniversary, my address, my phone number, my top 5 favorite movies, my daughter's voice, to get milk, where I parked the car, when I last mowed the lawn, when I last wore this shirt, when the next new episode of New Girl is on, to take attendance, what my brother Josh looked like when he smiled, that God loves me, where my keys are, to tell my mom I love her, to call my dad on his birthday, my Skyward password,

plus a bunch of other stuff I can't remember.

So if I see you in a Walmart checkout line or in an old video, please forgive me if I can't think of your name right away.

I promise, I haven't forgotten you.

Your name is just a leaf that hasn't dropped yet. So before a big windstorm comes by, do something for me. 

Remember when we made the dance video with Caden and Tara and everyone? Forget about it.

Remember Tim's face when he was sitting back at my computer? Forget about it.

Remember when Lexi came back? Remember when Lon got up and read? Remember when Sarah and Addie's blogs made us jealous? Forget about it.

Remember how excited we all were on the first day? Forget about it.

Remember how nostalgic we were at the end? Forget about it.

Remember how I struggled to get your attention because the girls were just too excited about everything all the time? Forget about it.

Remember the day we tried to talk about Jonny, but nobody knew what to say? Forget about it.

Remember how I made seating charts, but most of you sat where you wanted anyway? Forget about it.

Remember how fast this year went? Remember Valentine's Day? Remember jumping in the air on Indie Day? Remember the story about the wise man and the bird and how everything was in your hands? Forget about it.

Remember this: doo, da, doo. da da da doo doo doo. #fancy

Remember trying to come up with a pen name? Remember choosing a blog template? Remember when nobody knew who you were? Forget about it.

Remember when I told you to fall in love? Forget about it.

Remember the story about the autistic son who typed the words "I Am Real" ? Because I almost forgot about that.

Remember the paradoxes, the contradictions, the top 5s that I missed, the pictures of journals I never showed you, remember the natives and the tourists, the hearts you saw and the ones you didn't, remember what your bones said, all the lines from all the songs, and every blog post you didn't read.

I feel like the girl in The Book Thief walking through the crowd of Jews whispering, "I won't forget you, I won't forget you."

But I'm sorry. Because I can't stop bombs from falling.