It was the end of the school year. The Year 12 students had all finished exams, some had even gone home to work on the family farm before returning for the final speech night. I was at home, checking through my reports in the middle of the afternoon when my front door bell rang.

I walked up the hall and opened the door, but there was noone on my doorstep. I wondered if it was a prank, and stepped outside to get a clearer view of the street. Just as I did, I saw one of my Year 12 students sheepishly waiting to see my reaction. I am a very private person, and have always kept the location of my family residence a secret from students.

I smiled. ‘Hi Fiona. What can I do for you?’ Then three other students stepped out from behind a car on my nature strip. Kristen, Callum and Andrew all had worried looks on their faces. ‘What’s wrong?’ I asked.

Callum took the lead. ‘Nothing, Noons. We were just sitting at the pub, talking about our year and things and someone asked if they knew where you lived. We know you value your privacy and stuff, but we just wanted to come and say hi.’

I laughed. ‘That’s OK. So, how did you find the place?’

Fiona owned up. She once saw me riding my bike home from school, and followed me in her car. I’m sure that’s called stalking. She said the traffic was too slow, and my pushbike was traveling too fast for her to keep up – so she just drove up and down some of the streets in the general area she had last seen me. (OK … that’s definitely stalking!). Eventually, she saw two young boys playing out the front of a house, and since she had seen my sons at school events, she made the connection with the house. ‘You aren’t annoyed are you?’

I shook my head. ‘Not at all. I think it’s funny you would bother to stalk a teacher. Did you have a plan to rock my roof if I didn’t give you all good marks?’

They laughed.

Kristen then sparked up. ‘Well, we just wanted to say thanks. That was all. We didn’t want to disturb you or anything.’

I reassured her. That’s the kind of disturbance every teacher needs.

Then she asked the strangest thing. ‘Sir, could I ask a favour?’

‘Sure.’ I replied. It would be a reference request – I’d been through this 100 times before.

‘Would it be OK if I gave you a hug?’

I was quite floored, since the implications of a male teacher hugging a female student are dangerous at best. Still, on the street, in public, with witnesses to say it was not the start of something sinister, I conceded.

Fiona then asked if she could have one too.

Then Andrew, who had been quiet, said ‘Can I have … no no … not a hug. Can I shake your hand?’

I laughed. ‘Certainly.’

And Callum smiled as he offered his hand too.

Do we ever truly understand the effect we can have on teenagers. Some of the memories can last them a lifetime – and I’m sure they are the same memories that will last for me as well.