Teachers

Of all the many salient features of childhood I remember teachers. Right after birth you get attention, they cater to you, not to mention free food and lodging and those rattles with which to fight your frequent battles, when no one listens to you crying and Dad pretends that you are lying, yet overall, all those distractions and those which trigger strange reactions are not what I would call oppressive or, even in a pinch obsessive... Back to the subject, the main feature which, after all, is what a teacher does to an innocent, still growing, developing and overflowing, perceptive and receptive student, it seems to me it would be prudent to lay all cards upon the table. A teacher, though extremely able, and with the best of all intentions, can teach you math and those inventions that are considered quintessential for kids to harness their potential. He'll teach you how to write to Nana, about the bend in the banana, and photosynthesis of grasses, the volatile and inert gases, about the nature of the STASI and what went wrong with Esterhazy, he shows you how to draw a stallion and how to count in good Italian, why Hitler ended up in power and how an insect-eating flower digests the flesh of German roaches Do not forget their role as coaches. They must be anchored in Gymnastics so that they turn the dumbest spastic into an athlete and achiever, and, as a genuine busy beaver he is a jack of all persuasions, which comes in handy on occasions of idiosyncratic troubles, a teacher thinks and rubs his stubbles around the chin for stimulation of dormant neurons on vacation, and students sit in awe and ponder how soon the bell will ring, they wonder how any human can stay jolly when faced with this forsaken folly. And in the end, when years have faded and all your teachers judged and graded you as a product of the system, you'll find that after all, you've missed them.