So I keep talking about this great class I have, how funny the students are, how stunning it is three hours can go so fast–such great writing, such good company. The best class ever, I keep saying. I go on and on.

Ron said, “It sounds like how you talked about the Pandas. Remember that class?”

I almost forgot. The Pandas! That was a good class. The kind that ends with a themed cake, presents for everyone, mottos and promises and photographs. A secret language, inside references and nicknames. We all had nicknames and dramas and we sat in a basement at Betty’s house and cried on the last day of that class. And longed for bamboo.