This morning I was recalling an old film about a man who forgot who he was, and it brought to mind my students, who, I’m afraid, often have that problem. I don’t mean they forget their names or their friends or their homes, but rather, they forget something far more important – their real and rather astonishing identity, their unreserved distinctiveness and uniqueness as creations of a boundless universe. Each day, sometimes tousled and hesitant, they bring their unsure selves into my classroom as though their lives are disordered specks in a puzzling mess called life. I, though, want to shake them into seeing that they are nothing less than marvels in a universe of marvels. I want to show them a magic mirror that will display the immeasurable inner spaces of their lives. They are more majestic than mountains, deeper than the deepest waters, grander than all the grand canyons of the world – but they’ve simply forgotten. They’ve gone blind to the bright light their lives give off. They have eyes, but they don’t see the beauty they bring to the world – and to my classroom. I’m a teacher, but I guess I’m also a “remind-er” – someone who must remind his students, over and over again, that there are stars in the sky that don’t shine as clearly and as smartly as they do.