‘You used to teach me,’ said the young man.
‘I’ve taught so many,’ said the old man, sighing.
‘I forget.’
‘I was the boy you said was useless,
Good for nothing, a waste of space.
Who always left your classroom crying,
And dreaded every lesson that you taught.’
The old man shook his head and turned away.
‘No, I don’t remember you,’ he murmured.
‘Well, I remember you,’ the young man said.