I dashed out of my room heading to a meeting and almost bumped into two girls in the hallway.
“Hello Mr. Hasan,” one of them said, waving her hand with a smile on her face.
I tilted my head. “Do we know each other?”
Sadly, this happens often. So I just ‘fess up to not remembering students when I don’t. And if I should, I further confess that it usually takes three embarrassments to force the neurons to finally retain names. We all get a chuckle out of it.
“No,” she said, “you don’t know me.”
“So… how do you know my name?”
“I’ve heard about you.”
Oh oh.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Irqat,” she said (or something like that).
At this point we were in the main hall. They were going left. I was headed to the stairs in the other direction.
“Is that with a q or a k?” I asked loudly as the distance between us grew.
“A q,” she said.
I stopped and turned and pointed. “And it’s the q that makes the difference!”
“Mr. Hasan,” she shouted. “You get it!”
On the value of q, I suppose I do.