Thought while in the 1A

class, I’m a teacher.  I want to be seen as the tireless teacher who happens to write.  Not the “tireless writer”.  About to be interrupted…  shit.  Nevermind.  Other instructors flood the halls, and I want to listen to what they say, then don’t.  Next week, easy meetings with students.  But I have to wait till Monday.  Why the bloody… why can’t I teach everyday?  That’s all I want to do, anymore.  Teach, share ideas, the Exchange of Ideas like Bob said… read, share reactions to the readings.  Tonight pairing HST with the Cab I found in my cellar.  Not Wolff like I said— or, no, I’l stick with Wolff.  Short story.  Study therein, of.  Full-timers talk loud in the mailroom and annoy me proverbially, joke with each other in that self-assured verbal romp.  Think I should go, cuz this isn’t working my usual place to meditate in words, this conference room table—  GODDAMNIT!  SHUT UP!!!