Avalon and Armandus

Avalon was a student of ours. This summer he went swimming with his friend Armandus to a mountain lake, and drowned. Armandus couldn't save him.

Six months have passed. Days are short now, gray.

I walk around campus and see a group of students passing by, and wonder if Avalon would be with them.

In my classroom there's no definite seat that would have been his, but he was always to my left. There's a blind spot there, imprecise. Perhaps i would have had to tell him off for missing more classes than was good for him. He would have been involved in too much, come to school with puffy eyes. Awake all night, he wouldn't brush his teeth and his breath would be strong. I'd have had a talk with him by now. Ponte las pilas, porque si no..., i'd have said.

Armandus i do see, from time to time, with his friends. He seems to be loved and appreciated by them. Silent and thoughtful, he is. Squirmy with his studies too, i get the feeling. Though he's not my student, i know he goes to school because he has to, but not much inspires him. HAS TO is the problem. He'll find what he likes when he doesn't HAVE TO, i hope.

I wish i could hug him and comfort him, tell him all it's ok, that i'm sorry this happened to him. That it was not his fault and that he's precious, that it would be terrible if he had been lost, too. That i would like for him to live his days as the delicate, beautiful gift they are.

Of course, i won't approach him. I don't know him at all, and teachers don't go around embracing students, particularly when they've never talked before. It's also unsightly for a man to let any other man try to give comfort. More than that, it's uncomfortable.