Ooh, ooh, look what I found in the mailbox when I came home for lunch! Thank you Merry, for the latest babasahin from the Iglesia ni Zafra! This should come in handy on the bus. But I will just read in silence. Sorry kapatid; am too shy to preach.
Meanwhile in other short stories, I have a favourite class: The Short Story. See, most of my classes are for a budding paralegal, so what I think is the one elective in the entire 2-year program is certainly most welcome on my sked.
So yes, the teacher is a young archetype taking a break from his Ph.D., which has something to do with the Renaissance. Let’s see: We’ve got the sneakers, slacks, pin-striped sweater, tie, dimples, perfectly moussed hair. Even the distressed brown leather saddlebag. I even caught myself touch typing at one point to be able to scrutinize his face for make-up. And the closing line to his intro? “I study old maps.” Ridiculous. I never looked forward to a late afternoon class this much. Or at all. But I’m neither a teacher nor a student, so I’m not really sure how these harassment laws apply to me. Maybe will just wait till my student graduates.
So kids, our lesson of the day: The classical definition of literature, or at least what it’s for, is it teaches, delights and moves. No mention was made whether it studies old maps.
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