Goodbye Mister Chips and Salsa

Last night the family went out to dinner at Chevy's. It's not our usual food court rendezvous, but it was for a good cause. We were there along with a goodly number of other parents and teachers who brought their families to help raise money for my son's school. It was a fresh-mex-fajita-fiesta for everyone who attended, but there was something else.
I was struck by how excited my son was to look up and see his third-grade teacher eating at the table across from us. "Isn't that a little creepy - having dinner with your teacher?" I asked.
He didn't take the bait. "No dad. Geez." And with that he went bounding over to talk to his teacher, who spent a fair amount of time chatting him and a friend up, considering he was there with his wife and two small children. I felt very happy for my son to have that experience.
Then jealousy set in. What, I wondered, would my students do in that same situation? Would they run to sit at my feet as I pontificated and joked with them? Would they make the slightest sign of recognition? If I'm being completely honest, I think I would have to give a qualified maybe. For most kids it's a big enough twist in their reality to see their teacher walking down the street just outside of the school, let alone at a restaurant. The one that creeps the kids in my class out the most is when they see me riding my bike to and from school. "I saw you yesterday on your bike." They say.
"Yup."
"Don't you have a car?"
"Yes I do."
"Why don't you drive it?"
"To save gas, cut down on pollution, save money, and so my wife can use it to take my son where he needs to go."
"Oh."
Then we're done. Do I wish it went on from there? Sure I do. Maybe something like, "Gee Mister Caven, maybe I could ride my bike to school someday too to save gas like you, " or "Wow, I never thought about how much pollution one car could make." Every so often I see a former student who has moved on to middle school and they ask if I'm still riding my bike. It's flattering that they remember me.
I once had a discussion with some friends about favorite movies in which we determined that it is likely that somewhere there has to be somebody waiting for the special director's cut DVD of "Anaconda." Somewhere out there is a student for whom I will be their favorite teacher, and I have statistics to prop that assertion up.