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The Man Who Wasn't There - De File
Does Collecting Make You Feel Dirty?
cbertsch
cbertsch
The Man Who Wasn't There
As previously noted, the last two weeks at work have been devoted to one-on-one meetings with students. I like that aspect of being a teacher a lot. But my capacity to communicate effectively in that context only extends so far. Today I outstripped it, leading to some awkward moments in which I could barely come up with a coherent sentence. The break for the holiday came at the perfect time, then, except that, with my parents already here and my sister and her two-year-old son arriving tomorrow, our house will feel a little like my office has felt recently. Maybe I can drive down there to get some solitude. Or simply to write, which is not something I feel capable of doing with the ambient psychological noise saturating our domicile. In the words of George Costanza's father, "Serenity now!"

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