Rest easy, this isn’t going to be an essay on pedagogical strategy.

Mary and I had over for dinner last night 10 of the 15 students who went to London in Summer 2014.  Two graduated last May and the rest will graduate in a few months.  They feigned disappointment that I won’t be able to attend their graduation until I was forced to feed them.  I think they won in the deal.  I certainly did.

In any case, at one point they were discussing their experience in London and I was trying to pay attention to the 8 different loud conversations going on around my dinner table.  Eventually, everyone ended up trying to pin down the events of our first weekend.  I confess I don’t remember it – there was a lot going on and I was still trying to settle in.  I’m sure I did touristy stuff and that may have included the day I walked 13 miles from our house in Hampstead to the Thames and along its banks for many miles, taking in the first layer of London tourism.  You can walk forever in London and never see the same pub twice. I may, even, have prepared some lectures.

While I tried to unravel the memories of my first weekend in London, my attention was captured by a comment from the student immediately to my left who said that she and another student attended the British Open.  Wait, what?  Why didn’t you tell me?  Obviously, I would love to have gone to the Open.  She looked surprised and told me that she had invited everyone, several times.  Including me.  Begged people to go.  Including me.  Somehow, I blew off a chance to spend a day in Liverpool watching the third round of the Open and I don’t even remember the invitation!




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