Wouldn't the boat also be able to go by itself in the water?

5 thoughts on “Wouldn't the boat also be able to go by itself in the water?”

  1. I remember the day I told my most influential teacher, the one under whose tutelage I first realized that I could/should/would write, that I was leaving the university of her employ for another. “Why?” she practically shrieked (I seem to remember she took me by the shoulders and shook me, but as that seems most unlikely, I’m guessing her tone of voice managed to accomplish it hands-off). How will I explain, I wondered, that I want to write but am going to study Chinese instead of English? “I’m sorry,” I said in a small voice, “but I have to study Chinese. I’ve wanted to ever since Hai Bin Zhang, my lost friend, taught me a few tantalizing words as I was teaching him, a high-level Chinese engineer who had no English, how to push a mop at the nursing home we worked at.” “Ah,” she replied, suddenly calm. “I see. Chinese.” She had a look of nostalgic longing, as of a traveler long-returned from a much-beloved and far-off land who hears that someone is departing for those same shores. “Of all the reasons you could have given me, that’s the only one I can’t argue with. It will be hard work, but you will enjoy it, and you will never regret it.” With that blessing (among others) she sent me on my way, and she was right on every count. Duo xie.


  2. English literature seems to breed great teachers, passionate teachers, doesn’t it? The one teacher at my children’s high school that I mentioned above is, no surprise, an English teacher.

    Now I’m thinking of my high school teacher Mrs. Watson, who once ate a zinnia in Great Books. I think it was to show us what sensory experience could be like, although all I really remember was her popping that orange flower into her mouth and chewing it down. (She was a great teacher.)


  3. Yeah, my junior high English teacher (Ms. Domstrand) was one of the few things that gleamed in those otherwise bleak years. Hers were among the few classes I didn’t worry about flunking, her passion inspiring me to pull things together somewhat for at least one hour a day.

    And when I think of my favorite high school teachers (many did we have over eight semesters in an urban school with thousands of students), those at the top of the reel that starts spinning are all…yup, English teachers. I still remember the moment Shakespeare was illuminated as something relevant that I could actually understand. But I suppose I’m biased, being a lover of words, towards teachers who are the same. If I was a math whiz I’d probably be sitting here reminiscing over how mister so-and-so really rocked my world with a new theorem or something. Hard to picture, but could be.


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