When Nancy Flexer opened the door to her classroom near the end of her final school year, all 41 years of her career as a beloved first-grade teacher came to life right in front of her.

Cole Elementary School in Tennessee surprised Flexer with a memorable and emotional retirement party featuring former students of all ages, dating back to the first class she taught in the 1973-1974 school year. A video of the event shows an overwhelmed Flexer being moved to tears as she hears former students who are now adults tell her how much she affected their lives.

“I’m one of the luckiest people in this world,” Flexer said. “I remember I opened the door to the classroom thinking no one was in there, and it was wall-to-wall people and banners and everything. It was the coolest thing that could have ever happened in my life. How many times do we really realize the lives we’ve touched, the manner in which we’ve touched them, and that these are memories that stay with them for life?

Despite being young when they were taught by Flexer, students easily recalled the heartwarming notes she wrote them on report cards, the ways she helped them overcome shyness and awkwardness, and how she inspired them to future academic success to earn scholarships and advanced degrees.

Even though Flexer hadn’t seen some of the former students for decades, she instantly remembered the names of every single one there.

A scrapbook(剪贴簿) of her career was presented to her as one student after another recalled the effect Flexer had on his or her life.

“I’ve had many opportunities to move to a school closer to my home, but I said ‘Cole gave me so much in my life that when I retire, I will retire from Cole school and give back what’s been given to me, ” Flexer said. “My career could have taken me nowhere that would have made me happier. I think of it as a blessing.”

Last night, when I went to see my grandmother, she was sitting alone at the nurse station with her word search book. My grandmother was sitting at the desk with her book but no pencil just staring at the letters as if she was trying to find the word. I came to her and said hello.

Usually, she at least knows I am connected to her somehow but this time, she looked at me with doubt. I introduced myself and told her that I was her granddaughter. “I don’t know who you are,” she said.” Do you want to go outside?” I asked. “okay,” she said.

We got her things and I wrapped it all in a blanket we would use as a tablecloth. I asked her if she could hold it while I pushed her wheelchair and held her cup of tea.

She held her hands out and I placed the cloth bundle (捆) on her lap. I put the cloth on the table and she helped smooth it down-then I put the rest of the items on the cloth..

Now she was just staring at me as if confused, as if trying to figure me out. “Do you know who I am?” I asked. She said, “I don’ t really know.”“ I am your granddaughter,” I said. “I am not sure what that is. I don’t know, I don’t know you,” she said.

I think of my friend whose mother has not known him for years, has no recollection (记忆), and doesn’t speak any more. It is a painful sight for all those living who remember. I am grateful that my grandmother is still so present. I have a sinking feeling that our days are numbered.

For now, she is still here, still says thank you, and still loves me from a deep and secret place. Tomorrow, I will see her and she may or may not know me-and that will be okay. I still know her.

Not too long ago a thirty-year-old financial analyst was complaining to me over a period of months about her tendency to procrastinate (拖延) in her job. We had worked through her feelings about her employers and how they related to her feelings about authority in general, and to her parents specifically. We had examined her attitudes toward work and success and how these related to her marriage, her sexual identity, her desire to compete with her husband, and her fears of such competition. Yet despite all this standard psychoanalytic (精神分析的) work, she continued to procrastinate as much as ever Finally one day, we dared to look at the obvious.

"Do you like cakes?" I asked her.

She replied that she did.

"Which part of the cake do you like better," I went on, " the cake or the frosting (糖霜)? "

"Oh, the frosting!" she responded enthusiastically.

"And how do you eat a piece of cake?" I inquired, feeling that I must be the silliest psychiatrist that ever lived.

"I cat the frosting first, of course," she replied.

From her cake-eating habits we went on to examine her work habits and as was to be expected we discovered that on any given day she would devote the first hour to the more satisfying half of her work while the remaining six hours to the objectionable (令人反感的) another half.

I suggested that if she were to force herself to finish the unpleasant part of her job during the first hour, she would then be free to enjoy the other six.

It seemed to me, I explained, that one hour of pain followed by six hours of pleasure was preferable to one hour of pleasure followed by six hours of pain. She agreed, and, being basically a person of strong will, she no longer procrastinated.

Delaying satisfaction is a process of scheduling the pain and pleasure of life in such a way as to improve the pleasure by meeting and experiencing the pain first and getting it over with. It is the only good way to live.