On the Morning

I was just interviewed by a local college student, and during the interview, the question of what I remember from my own education emerged. When I think back to elementary school, I don't think of the things we learned. I think of the people and situations. I remember halls and classrooms, being called out. In fact, Aimee Nezhukumatahil's poem "On Listening to your Teacher Take Attendence" comes to mind, for in it the speaker breathes in to settle herself when her name is mispronouced and everyone looks at her; she tries to sit with difference by herself as a child. I don't remember standing out so much, except for my introversion, but I remember my last name getting butchered over and over and the questions that emerged around it. The Godfather came out just before I was born, but it aired on HBO and other channels during my childhood (though I was not allowed to see it), so I was asked repeatedly if my family was in the mob and if they had killed people. My name was changed to mozzarella and spaghetti over and over by child and adult alike. In fact, one aunt of my first wife called me mozzarella the entire time I was married. Still, I know how to read and add some numbers, some basic history, a little philosopy/theology, and such. Which class or grade did I learn these things in? I don't know. I have a PhD and still feel like an idiot 95% of the time, but I'm sure I picked up a few things. When I look back at elementary and junior high, I see the hill leading down to the school playground for recess. I see the dull green tiles of the hallways. I see friends and bullies playing and just being people. I see best friends, huddled bored or laughing, even the ones who died years ago.

**And yes, I think my life through poems all day. I must tell myself "Let us go you and I" at least once a day.