Living Like Weasels

Tuesday morning I returned to dear ol' Auburn High for breakfast and coffee with my sister and Cory, the greatest Western Civ. teacher ever. She has the distinct privilege of being his teacher aide first period; aka: she doesn't have to get to school on time and gets to spend the first hour of school, after she finally arrives, talking about whatever she wants with one of the coolest guys ever. 

I enjoyed my 96 minutes in Cory's classroom until the bell rang throwing me back into the nightmares of crowded hallways, jammed lockers, and trying to avoid grumpy teachers' watchful eyes. Allison has English second period with inarguably the most attractive, intelligent man I ever had for IB English 12. She dragged me, reluctantly, to his room because what would I say, what would I do upon seeing him again? I nervously entered his classroom and our dialogue went something like this:

DT: Hey. How have you been?

Me: I miss you.

Yep. After the initial awkward outburst we settled into a pretty normal conversation about, you guessed it, literature. I told him how I missed reading great writing, and he encouraged me to continue reading despite my ridiculous, and unrelated course materials. 

Now, outside of the literary oasis that is his classroom I am reminded of an awesome essay we read that year. It's by Annie Dillard, about weasels, and it's brilliant. Note: "Our eyes locked, and someone threw away the key" and the ending that is surprisingly relevant and meaningful.

You can read it here:

Annie Dillard's Living Like Weasels

Enjoy.