I’m still here!!

Living the good life — until the end, whenever that is.

My students have killed me off the past couple of semesters, but I keep coming back for more. Let me explain.

For my Writing and Reporting class at the American University in Bulgaria, I’ve introduced students to the art of obituary writing. It’s an alien concept in this part of the world. I think mostly because it’s considered bad luck to talk about death. I’m not entirely sure about that, but let’s go with it.

The first time I taught this class, back in the fall of 2011, I forced students to find real dead people to write about. They had to identify someone who had lost a loved one, interview them and others, and produce a thoughtful and artful obit. I made that assignment the “midterm.” It counted for a lot. Students didn’t love it, but once they finished, they wanted to make sure everyone had to do the same. They also did produce some memorable pieces.

I took a year off from that class and reintroduced the “obit” last fall — (and made it worth less; it wasn’t the midterm anymore). I added a twist, though. The students had to write about the death of their professor. I allowed them to interview me, to probe for detail (I made it an exercise in interviewing for detail, for facts, for anecdotes.). Some students still didn’t like the idea of writing about death — but for two semesters now, they’ve done it.

My favorite part about the assignment is how they put me away. This year, I’ve “died” from ischemic heart disease, circulatory collapse and heart attack. I fell off the Caucasus Mountains during an earthquake in Georgia, I was hit by a car, I collapsed from over indulgence during a brewery tour, suffered kidney failure (perhaps related), and I passed from this earth after a huge wave of satisfaction from, again, over-consumption after a long bike ride. I know what you’re thinking: they know me so well!

Additionally, I make the students reach out to family and friends for more detail. (Perhaps you’re one of the lucky ones who have been approached?) They first have to assure folks this is a test, this is only a test. Then they do what reporters do: They get good quotes. Let me just say: It’s nice to be a guest at your own funeral. I’ve enjoyed reading the nice things people say about me, even if they aren’t true. You guys are swell.

Anyway, thanks for playing along. And remember to be nice to your friends and family. They always say such nice things about you, as far as you know.

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