DEAR MISS MANNERS: I have been a college professor for 19 years. In that time I've had many wonderful students. On occasion I'll run into some alumni, either in town or at a college function. My problem is that while I may remember their face, or even more details about them, I can't always remember their name.

What is the polite way to deal with this? When faced with these situations I use a generic "Hi there, good to see you" greeting. But I'm afraid they realize I can't recall their name.

GENTLE READER: Allow Miss Manners to congratulate you for teaching at a college where the classes are small enough to allow the professors to learn their current students' names. And for being in a profession where the inability to master the mechanics of life is considered charming. Should you feel that the student senses your inability to use his name, you need only ask for it by confessing, "You remember how absent-minded I am."

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DEAR MISS MANNERS: How quickly should one respond to personal e-mail? Because this form of communication is virtually instantaneous, I'd like to think that the recipient would want to dash off a reply as quickly as possible, adhering to an update of the old rule that a response should go out in the next post.

However, I'm disappointed to find that isn't the case. What are your thoughts on this matter of netiquette?

GENTLE READER: Miss Manners wishes that people would let go of the belief that they should be able to command others' immediate attention for the ordinary business of life. Now that everyone has answering machines as protection from immediate intrusion, the demand is immediate availability by e-mail.

What if they have other things to do? What if they are having computer trouble? What if they are not in a mood to chat with you?

It is true that some forms of social communication should be answered immediately: responses to invitations, thanks for presents and favors, cries for help. Less urgent things can wait for the convenience of the recipient.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: Jenna, a friend of my wife's and mine, recently moved and in the process lost some photos including several of Jason. My wife and I had informally introduced them some 16 years ago, and the two had an on-again-off-again romantic relationship that ended amicably (at Jenna's request) 10 years ago with no more contact since.

Jason is now married. Jenna has requested of us a photograph of Jason taken 10 to 15 years ago. She indicated that while she holds fond memories of their time together, she has no further interest in him -- she simply wants the photo as a memento.

My wife has no problem complying with her request. I, on the other hand, am not sure if this is proper, as Jason is now a married man. Jenna suggested I may be gender- and or marital status-biased, in that if Jason made the same request I might more readily comply.

Do we give Jenna a couple of old photos of Jason? Should we obtain Jason's permission first? (He lives several hundred miles away now, and we see and speak with him infrequently.) Is there a universal rule here irrespective of gender or marital status?

GENTLE READER: It is not clear to Miss Manners what you suspect that Jenna will do, or be inspired to do, if she has Jason's photograph, which she has had all these years without making a scandal.

It doesn't seem much clearer to Jenna, either, as Jason's being married, not his gender, is what seems to make the difference to you. But we both know that you suspect her of wrongdoing, and neither of us knows why. Keeping photographs of people from one's past seems perfectly harmless.

You do not need an excuse to refuse to give up your pictures, although refusing to allow them to be copied seems unnecessarily churlish. But there is no excuse for doing so by insulting the motives of your friend.

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DEAR MISS MANNERS: How does one respond to the increasing enthusiasm of pregnant youngsters? Twice in the last year, co-workers have buttonholed me to admire the ultrasound photos of their yet-unborn offspring.

I find myself dreading the inevitable march of new technologies; sooner or later, I fear these medical snapshots will cease to be mercifully dim and grainy. (Color, no doubt, will follow.)

I already had very little wish to examine the internal organs of my co-workers and their significant others, but today arrived a fresh challenge. I received an e-mailed "It's a Boy!" message concerning a fetus in its third trimester that has already been named. May I send one-third of a congratulatory greeting card?

GENTLE READER: Something has to be done before this becomes the conventional thing to do. Overly enthusiastic parents-to-be would then move on to showing pictures taken earlier in the process.

Miss Manners trusts you know that you are obliged to make a pleasant fuss over baby pictures, cooing and gratifying the parents with some remark that passes for admiration. But to peek at someone who is not yet ready to come out of the womb is unseemly. If asked if you want to see the ultrasounds, you can intimate this by saying, "Oh, no, thank you, I'll wait. But I'll be eager to see pictures of him when he is born."

Caught unawares with such pictures thrust before your eyes, your best defense is to refuse to believe what you are seeing. It is too mean to play on parents' fears by inquiring anxiously, "Is he going to be all right?" But asking "When was she born?" or "You mean it's not finished yet?" will force them into explanations that may -- or may not -- plant the idea that inviting people to admire one's insides is neither conventional nor rewarding.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: Recently I assisted a woman and her two children with directions and was "thanked" with a comment that seemed inappropriate and self-serving. The woman said, "Have a blessed day."

I was terribly offended and believe her response meant she was fulfilling some commitment to herself to display her religious beliefs regardless of the appropriateness of displaying her religion to me. Will you comment on what response I could have used to convey my displeasure?

GENTLE READER: "Thank you." True, it is what the lady should have said, but what she did say was a mere pleasantry, neither a benediction nor an attempt to proselytize. Miss Manners believes it might help if you persuaded yourself to think of the remark as an abbreviated form of, "Bless you, kind sir, for having rescued my family and me."

DEAR MISS MANNERS: How is one to respond to "You look so youthful!" I know the right answer of course; it's "Thank you." But, still. It peeves.

GENTLE READER: Then try adding wistfully, "But I would so much prefer to look wise."

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