Skip to content

Cashews and Pickles

She came into the room at the beginning of the sixth period final. It was the last exam of the year. But she was exempt, so I was surprised to see her.

“Here, Mr. Hasan,” she said. “Thank you,” her long dark hair framing a relaxed smile.

She handed me a card and then left for the cafeteria, where the exempt students were assembling. It was a long, sweet note that concluded with these words:

I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but I’m going to miss algebra. I hope your summer is full of cashews and pickles!

They know us really, really well.