One of our students died today (or perhaps last night). I happened to be at the advising office right after his mother called to report that he had had a seizure on a subway platform, and fallen onto the tracks, cracking his skull. I did not know him personally, but know who he was. Some of my friends were his teachers, so I feel like I was on the verge of knowing him. (In a small college you can enjoy the illusion that any student you see might turn up in one of your classes eventually.) He would have been twenty-two in June.
Even in a relatively sheltered and privileged context like an expensive liberal art college, terrible things happen. And because each of us comes in contact with so many others, we are made aware of a lot more misfortune and tragedy than if we worked in a smaller or less intimate community. Through my students I know of much death and sickness, pain and depression and the suicide of distant friends. Even so, a student's death at your own school is especially tragic: such youth, such promise.
Max Adler, rest in peace.
