One of my favorite memories from High School: our English teacher, Harold Santee, trying to get a load of sophomores and juniors to get out of their shells and talk about "To His Coy Mistress." It was going nowhere. A real "anybody...anybody...bueller..." moment, if you will. "None of you can tell me what this fellow's after? None of you?" The sound of crickets. Rev. Flory, the teacher of the next period's class tiptoes in through the door to drop off some books. At that instant, Santee (ex marine sergeant)barks:
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2005-11-29 07:40 pm (UTC)"FORNICATE!"
as a dazed Rev. Flory staggers out the door.
A beautiful moment.