The Dumb Laowai

People teach for a wide variety of reasons. As for me, it’s that wide-eyed, goofy, open-mouthed look of excitement when a student finally understands a tough concept. It’s priceless, usually.

Not having had children of my own, I had forgotten the pure joy of a child who has just learned a dirty word. I recently discovered that this elation is not limited to children.

While I was packing up after class, my most earnest student, a 40 year old executive, lingered to apologize for missing a few classes due to his work schedule. I off-handedly replied that work can sometimes be a four letter word. Oops! He was not about to let me out of there without explaining this new idiom.

“Well, you see, many bad words have four letters…”

“Bad words?”

“Words you shouldn’t say in polite company,”

“Whaaaa?”

“like your boss, customers, etc.”

“What words?”

Oh Crap!!

“The kind of words that I can’t say in class.”

“I don’t understand.”

I looked around to make sure that we were alone as we walked out of the classroom. “Well, like ‘shit’”, I said quietly. “It has four letters.” The wide-eyed, goofy smile appeared out of nowhere, and, as we walked down the large, marble floored echo chamber that serves as a hallway, he proceeded to confirm his new understanding with enthusiastic shouts.

“Oh! SHIT! DAMN!”

“OK, you’ve got the idea.”

“HELL!”

“Exactly! These are the words that we don’t say.”

“FUCK!”

Cringe.

He got on the elevator, still swearing up a storm, but at least he still had the stupid smile and the Buckwheat eyes.

It’s why I teach.

I’ve always loved thunder; I find it comforting in a way that I can’t understand, much less explain. Just not with my snow, thank you very much!

Coming out of the bar a little later than intended or realized, I was a little shocked to find myself in a minor blizzard.  Already balance deficient, I’m afraid I wasn’t up to the challenge, and the tuccus took a bit of a beating. Once I was snuggly settled in at home, it was a beautiful thing to watch, though. Until I realized that thunder in a snowstorm is not at all comforting,  more apocalyptic than relaxing.

The sudden realization that the thunder was actually government artillery, blasting snow-inducing chemicals into the sky came as a relief, momentarily.  I believe I like my weather the old-fashioned way: natural. I can’t seem to shake the feeling that I now live in a Chinese snow globe that gets shaken whenever someone gets bored.

I think I prefer the idea of snow thunder, actually.