Lovely Non-Academic Spaces
99 papers to grade on the wall
99 papers to grade
you take one down
you flunk it around
98 papers to grade on the wall.
At the gym I met the patriarch today--pure embodiment, baby! An ancient HS English teacher, who carried around his MA in his wallet, stopped to tell me that he too was an English teacher (I took papers to grade in the atrium) in '54 . . . and cursed those damn miss-spellers (freaks!). All about _Grapes of Wrath_, _Lord of the Flies_, and _Animal Farm_. Took time to stop and tell me about those "black students who used words like 'onliest.'" I couldn't interrupt his ugly racist blah-blah because, as you see, in his mind I wasn't really standing there at all . . . just a dis-embodied pair of ears, a receptical for his trash . . .
Why do I feel sorry for that shit?? I know the answer: culturalized accomodation feelings baby! Blast!
Anger
Despair
Hopelessness
Laughing
Bitter
Angry
Dizzy
Unfocused
tired. I have a body full of potential, but I'm not physically seeing the world--yes, the whole entire World, Sudan, Netherlands, Argentina, change in my life time . . .
posted by SquirrleyMojo @ 11:40 AM
2 Comments:
I feel your pain. When this sort of thing happens to me, I try to keep in mind that I too will be old one day. So very old. And no one will understand me. "Kids today!" I'll say, and people will nod, tight-lipped, humoring me.
Ah, but I plan to continue to _read_ when/if I grow older.
Yes, read. And if need be, keep my mouth shut. :-)
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