Another Reason that I am Glad I Stopped Teaching

Evanthia O. Rosati was in the English-teaching racket longer than I was, and she has heard it all.

Whenever I am at a party or first introduced to anyone, I pray no one will mention my line of work. The party could be at full swing, music loud and the bass shaking the walls. I might be enjoying myself. Then someone says I teach English. All speaking stops as partiers adjust their vocabulary to English teacher level. The gentleman with the chip dip hanging off his cheek is now saying, "From whence I came…." . . . . Playful people become anxious adults once they become aware of the dreaded English teacher in their midst. In desperation, I yell out, "I don't have a shrine to Shakespeare in my backyard." (It's in the side yard; why give away all my secrets?) It's no use. The area clears anyway.

So true. These days I say I am a freelance book editor, which is at least partly true, and most people have no preconception about what I do.

Learning on the Ground

This is what online "learning" cannot do.

A writer from the Guardian accompanies some British secondary students on a field trip to Glastonbury. (I happen to know the teacher.)

The object, for Jamison, is not to deconstruct the stories and myths of Glastonbury. "The point is for them to experience the story, but not say if it is true," he says. "That is not what is important in [Religious Education]. I cannot say the Christian stories are authentic and the New Age worshippers and pagans are weirdos, especially as in the UK traditional religious groups are on the decline and people doing their own spiritual thing are on the increase.

Students have to learn that the place itself is a primary source.