Sometimes it is easy to feel sorry for oneself. I'm tired. The end of the semester is fast approaching and I'm not prepared. I have 10 different final exams to write. (Yes, ten!) I haven't been feeling well for quite some time. And so on...

Then the parents of one of my students walked into my office. Let's call him "Bob". I had noticed that Bob wasn't in class today. I was concerned, because that isn't like him. I knew that he had some medical difficulties earlier this semester, but he never went into the details with me. His parents came by to pick up any work that he could do. You see, today is the second anniversary of the death of their other child. Bob has been struggling with depression ever since, and they had to hospitalize him today. The doctors are adjusting his medication, and they hope he'll be home within a week, but the doctors did not want to leave him unsupervised.

Apparently Bob has really enjoyed his astronomy class and talks about it alot. He doesn't want to miss any material, but he may not be able to return this semester. I assured his parents that I'll help in any way I can - arrange an incomplete grade, if needed. They seemed relieved and expressed their gratitude. And so, worksheets in hand, his parents left my office to go back to the hospital across the street.

I may not feel well, but I know they feel worse.

I wish them all the best.