Day 28-C

79

 

And giving mediocre essays Bs and As so she doesn’t have to see bad students in the same class the following year. The Romantic dream of bringing a class of 40 students to a lively discussion of Plath versus Millay is so far from reality that it’s hardly worth entertaining. And I guess I sort of knew that, but I still keep the prospect of teaching English in the back of my head because I love the details of grammar, and even after a whole semester at the writing center, I still love explaining commas and the power of strong verbs and ways to avoid the passive voice – not only am I not weary of it, but I still grow excited at the prospect of sharing that information. So, I almost feel like my very demeanor has predestined me to teach, but besides the actual time I’d spend in the classroom or physically writing or working with students, I’d hate all the administrative hoopla and meetings and repressive, stifling Dos, Don’ts, and other laws. So this is an intriguing but disheartening peek into teaching for real, without the academic language or dramatic, flowery diction. So that slap in the face combined with the rain and John Mayer music to which I was listening, I turned very melancholy and introspective for the remainder of the afternoon. Once the rest of the group returned from the baths, Jarret retreated to his own room, and since the rain had finally let up, I sat outside with Tolga, Umit, and the owner of the hotel for tea, and I sat quietly and listen to their conversation happening completely in Turkish. Billie came by looking for something to do, so after I finished my tea, the two of us took a walk through the town. The wetness really put a damper on the life of the town, but we ambled around and talked about what our futures held for us since we’re both studying obscure, impractical subjects in school (he’s in the interior design program here). I’m pretty sure

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