Chapter 9

This is Chapter 9 of my never ending short story. I post new chapters every couple of weeks.


Previously........Her answer was: “I believe my dog is not God, but I can’t prove it.”

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From time to time I would see her in the student cafeteria and she would invite me to sit and chat. Generally these were brief encounters but occasionally we would sit and talk for hours. I treasured those times. The conversations would meander from topic to topic with an easy flow; sometimes there were whitewater rapids of disagreement interspersed with whirlpools of confusion but never any negativity or reproach. We treated each other as equals though we had different perspectives and schooling. She was amazingly well read on a vast array of topics yet admitted freely about her lack of knowledge when we drifted into some obscure subject. I came to realize she was truly a “student” in the classical sense. She was here to get an education, not merely to prepare for a career.

On one of these extended conversations she unexpectedly asked “Why do you teach?” I had no immediate truthful answer. When I hesitated a bit too long she smiled and said with glee “Three to five pages, double spaced. Cover the topic completely and succinctly. The paper is due next week at this time; don’t be late – no excuses.” We both laughed and I heartily replied “OK.”

I put myself through college pounding nails. I was much fitter then, with a much better tan and sometimes I miss it. I made more money doing that than I am making now. Why did I give that up for teaching? Though it was profitable, it did not provide me with what my insides desired. I guess I wanted to be a composer, not a fiddle player.

Composing is a lot easier said than done. I soon learned how much passion it took; how much knowledge was needed; how big a role imagination played. After I graduated I knew my education was lacking. Not only book knowledge, but life’s experience knowledge. That’s why I became a bum for three months. I didn’t consider myself as “homeless” just without a house. I knew I could re-enter the “real” world any time I chose.

Writing does not pay very well, especially at first and only if you are talented and put the work into it. You have to be self-critical to an extreme which can be tough on your innards. You need to be out in the world to observe but in order to be productive you need to be a recluse. You also need to eat.

Finding a teaching position was a stroke of luck. It came the closest to providing me what I needed – time and interaction with the real world. I didn’t set out to be a teacher but it provided me with what I needed at the time. I grew to like my new career over the years but I really could not express why. This “assignment” she gave me made me face my confusion head on. I knew I would have to solve it. I went for a drive in order to have time to sort it all out. Sometimes solutions fall out of the sky. A Procol Harem song came on the radio and one verse gave me the clear concise summary I sought:

“For the lesson lies in learning
And by teaching I will be taught.”

She gave me an A on the paper.
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(Autors note: If you would like to read all of the lyrics of the Procal Harem song visit http://lyricstrue.net/bandsongtext/Harum_Procol/In_Held_Twas_In_I.html)