DEAR ALIZARIN: Just another teacher in the hall

It is sad how little I have to write. I have been waiting for something besides more tales from the hall of secondary education, but such is my life until my next vacation so here it is:

First, my informal survey of students after the PSAT:

Me: What did you think of the PSAT?
Students: It was boring (interpretation: it was hard and not MTV)
Me: How does it make you feel about going to college?
Students: It is too hard and boring and I don't want to go.

I rest my case.

Second, as the weather drops in Los Angeles, the AC continues to blow full blast in my classroom. Students, still wearing shorts and t-shirts complain as I teach in a scarf and jacket and am ready to break out the gloves after spending 8 hours in my 60- degree room.

Third, there are the moments of brilliance, like my one student who writes how a book changed his life because the author writes about his active teen years. This student says he realizes he is not active and wants to be, wants to do something with his life, but he is not sure what. So, for now, he will think of ways to be more active and write more but not read more (the writer said he only read 15 books and is now a writer). Somehow, though, this still pleases me. Another student submits brilliant stories about the pain of living a life ruled by fear that could easily make it into a Twilight Zone episode.

Then, finally, there is the dismay that most of my seniors think that Siddhartha is just a crazy old man. Ok, that is an exaggeration, though they do think that; they are touching a bit on his journey and we have had some good discussions about whether or not he has reached enlightenment. Mostly they want to know what I think. So I tell them, and then I change my mind and argue the opposite and they get upset and confused. I try to convince them that kind of confusion is good for them.

Which somehow leads to a discussion about having children. When I tell them I do not want any, they are surprised and curious. At which point, one student blurts out, eyes widened, "You mean you are going to die a virgin." Just how do you answer that. Crossing some line I did not want to cross, I, of course, turned very red, ears burning, leading to all of us breaking out in laughter. They were very proud with their ability to embarrass me. I ungracefully changed the topic, though we never really regained our composure.

Tonight, energy permitting, I will scoff at all my obligations (as I am doing now in writing this) to attend the Festival de la Gente in lovely Boyle Heights. Perhaps that will give me something to write about besides school.

Much love,
Lychee