I don't want to love my students. The way one of them knocks on my door every day at 12:16 just to wave to me on her way to the cafeteria. The way one of my rather intimidating looking students did a jig before turning in his first piece of homework for the year. The way they tip-toed hesitantly into my class today because I had lost it on them yesterday for slacking. The way one of them stood up and announced that he wished to speak for the class and apologize for their behavior, and that they would all try to do better. The way I have to hide my giggles when they're inappropriate-or when I can't hide them at all. The way they ask me for relationship advice and parental advice and fashion advice-though I would be more inclined to ask them the latter. The way they take for granted that I will always be there, to help them, to fight for them, to defend them, to care for them for as long as I can. The way we have inside jokes. The way they ask me to come see their games and their plays. I don't want to love them. It is often too hard, too draining, too emotional, too much. I don't want to. Unfortunately, as I have learned, you can't always get what you want.