Eventually, they will all leave.
That’s the whole point of teaching them, right? So that they can be released and capable of survival, aka flight, at the end of your lessons. Parents toil for decades to forge an adult from the sweet tiny baby that they will always remember meeting, that they will always still see when they look at their grown offspring.
Teachers and professors toil in annual batches. We take them from knowing as close to nothing as you can imagine and build up their knowledge chink by brick, until the spring when they, too, leave us.
‘Tis the hardest part of this cycle for me–the leaving.
I hate goodbye with such a fury that I don’t even say it.