ESP

Back when I lived in Japan, I could always guess when my mom was calling. Maybe there was a certain urgency in the ring, because every time she called, I'd know who it was before picking up. This ability made me think I had some sort of ESP.

Similar thing happened today.

During the school day, I was typing something long and boring, and I started wondering if I had a student I could ask to type for me. This got me thinking about one of my former students, someone I'll call Janet, who could type about 100 words per minute. She used to almost beg to type for me, and whenever she did, a group of students would gather in awe. I was pretty amazed, too. I'm an OK typist, but I doubt I can do more than 50 words per minute. (In fact, as I'm writing this, I'm mistyping every other word. Maybe I'm nervous just thinking about how bad a typist I really am.)

Anyway, after school, I checked my mailbox, and there was a note from Janet, the very same student I hadn't seen or thought about in a couple of years until today. Apparently she had stopped by the school to tell me about a book she had written, wanted to know if I wanted a copy. "Weird," I thought, "I was just thinking about her." I also thought it weird that she had written a book. "Wonder what it's about," I wondered.

So, flash-forward to tonight. During the OSU-LSU football game, I grabbed a bite and a beer with a friend at a Lincoln Square bar. Afterwards, walking to my car, guess who I ran into. Yup, Janet.

"Hey, I dropped a note in your mailbox today," she said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to run into a former teacher at night in some random neighborhood.

"Yeah, I know," I said. "What's this about you writing a book?"

"Oh, I wrote a book about being a groupie," she said. "Do you want a copy?"

"Um, sure."

Something tells me I don't really want to read it.