I am labeling this post as "take 1" because I hope to accumulate multiple little stories that make me feel warm and fuzzy.
. . .
I just finished downloading a burned CD given to me by my AP Spanish Literature teacher. Before starting the course, I'll admit I was slightly disappointed that she was to be my teacher because I had this preconceived notion of her being a complete anal retentive bitch, but at the close of the first week, her infectious laughter and spontaneity assured me that she was anything but.
Throughout the year, our tiny, unmotivated class gave her much grief. Our class was united in procrastination: if an essay was due Friday, we would end up postponing it until next Monday, and the papers would actually begin dribbling in the next Wednesday. Homework was optional, test scores were abysmal, and presentations were painful to watch. Since the class was around noon everyday, class never began until at least ten minutes in, as half the students were sneaking into the other lunch period to snag a slice of pizza. During lectures, I would occasionally break my intense zoning-out to observe the faces of my fellow scholars: the very picture of apathy and disinterest.
Taking all of this into consideration, I was surprised and touched when, at the end of the year, she handed us each a CD case with nineteen carefully selected songs -- moreover, the track list was handwritten in various colors, and the inside contained a paper with a witty quote about realism
["El realismo es el único lugar donde puedes adquirir un buen bistec" - Woody Allen]
(Realism is the only place where you can get a good steak)
as well as stickers of fish and planets. Thinking of the time that she spent on this, making CDs for a bunch of whiny, flaky students with as much motivation as can be expected of fourth quarter seniors, I found myself feeling that familiar warm fuzziness that I get whenever my faith in humanity is renewed.
Gracias, Señora García.
