“This, she thought, was the sadness of teachers. Each semester is a contained little life - a relationship that begins, peaks, but always ends. They cycle in, cycle out, but you stay in one place. The teacher grows older, but the students never age. They are perpetually eighteen, twenty-one, lives always just on the cusp of beginning. You watch them walk off into the world, knowing you helped them become what they're becoming. You suffer the same ending again and again.”
Book:If We Had Known