things that say a lot about me

In high school I had five particularly memorable teachers: three in English, one in Philosophy, and one in Accounting.

This, embarrassingly, explains a lot about me.

I got the degree in English and toyed with a minor in Philosophy for a while. And then there's this thing I like to do sometimes where I add up big numbers in my head and see how fast I can do it. I probably shouldn't have mentioned that last part. I came here to talk about the Beatles.

One of the memorable English teachers taught a bizarre little class where we discussed a lot of James Joyce, and I began my hatred for Conrad's 'Heart of Darkness'. (The horror.) More often than not, the already tiny class of twelve had about seven students in attendance on any given day. On one afternoon my friend and I debated all through lunch whether or not to go to the class (it was a 'Heart of Darkness' day, I'm sure of it) and ended up halfway to the bus stop before some unknown force had us running back through the school halls, ten minutes late.

We rounded the corner at a dangerous speed to find the teacher standing outside the classroom, watching us with a radiating disapproval. We panicked, then, sure, but continued on to class thinking we couldn't flee since he had seen us, and it was too late in the year to drop the class.

With an apology and outrageously hopeful spirits, we entered the classroom to find it empty save the sad piece of tumbleweed and the cricket. Upon realizing what happened, his stance at the doorway looked a lot more like the hope of a man clinging to a log in the ocean than disapproval.

The bastard still gave the lecture. We discussed Margaret Atwood's poetry, and I fell asleep halfway through with the thought: "I can't fall asleep; it's just me and one other-"

It was that kind of class.