Scott Robinson (quadhome) wrote,
Scott Robinson
quadhome

Who stole the uprock, who stole the paint?

I'm standing in the back of a high school classroom I just crashed. The door is directly behind me. In front of me are rows of desks, filled with improbably bright-eyed students. To the left and right of me, surrounding the desks with their students and consuming the remaining space in the room, are dozens of uncomfortable twenty-somethings. It's standing room only with an opening in the front for a teacher to lecture. At the edge of that opening is a front-facing couch. Sitting on the couch are a few more college-age people. The overall mood is of a line for a new Harry Potter movie, just moments before the theatre staff open the doors.

I'm being pushed and shoved by the mass of bodies in this increasingly hot room. This is distracting to the point that I missed the teacher's entrance. He's now talking, and I can't hear him! Waves of frustration pass through me, and my respect for the punctuality pecking order begins to wane. Pushing forward, I make my way through the rows of desks and hop over the back of the couch - landing on the lap of a girl. She pushes me off her. The others on the couch and her move to provide additional room. One of them just finished asking a question, but I didn't quite catch it.

The teacher obviously is nearing the end of his thirties. His face has developed the first wrinkles of the variety easily mistaken for distinguishment. He speaks with authority, but adds a questioning tone that encourages his audience to express their own opinion. His lecturing style encourages critical questioning - I immediately like him. His overall dress and appearance is conservative and therefore not distracting. There is no aura of pretentiousness.

He stops speaking and considers an unheard question. I watch him look around the packed classroom. He knows everyone is here because the topic of his lecture is provocative. His eyes twinkle as he opens his mouth, and delivers the following:

( Wisdom? )
Tags: humour
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