and everyone applauded politely. Chumlig held them to it for a moment, then lowered her own hands. Juan could see she was scanning them all. Normally she ignored graffiti. This time she was searching for someone to crucify. Her gaze ended up in the old farts’ section, and she looked a little surprised.
“Very well. Thank you, Robert. That is all we have time for today. Class, your next assignment is to collaborate and improve on what you have already done. It’s up to you to find local partners for this step. Send me the teamings and your game plan before we meet next time.” The Ignominious Details would be in the mail by the time they got home.
Then the class bell — triggered by Chumlig, in fact — rang out. By the time Juan got himself out of his chair, he was in the tail end of the mad rush for the door. It didn’t matter. He was a little dazed by the strange form of virtual virtual reality that Robert Gu had created.
Behind him he could see that Gu had finally figured out the class was over. He would be outside with the rest of them in a few seconds. My chance to enlist him for the Lizard . And maybe something else. He thought on the old man’s magic words. Maybe, maybe, they could collaborate. Everybody had laughed at Robert Gu. But before the Pompous Bird had been launched, before they had laughed, Juan Orozco had felt the awed silence. And he did that with words alone …
When Robert walked to the front of the class, he was more irritated than nervous. He had wowed students for thirty years. He could wow them with the bit of verse he had composed for today. He turned, and looked out the class. “A poem,” he said. “Three hundred words. I tell you about the land of North County as it really is, here and beyond.” The poem was a pastoral cliche, composed last night and based on his memories of San Diego and what he saw on the drive to Fairmont. But for a few moments, his words held them, just as in the old days.
When he was done there was a moment of absolute silence. What impressionable children. He looked over at the Adult Ed people, saw the jagged, hostile smile on Winston Blount’s face. Envious as ever, eh, Winnie ?
Then a pair of oafs near the front started laughing. That precipitated scattered giggles. “Class!” Chumlig stepped forward and everyone applauded, even Blount.
Chumlig said a few more words. Then the class bell rang and the students were all rushing for the door. He started after them.
“Ah, Robert,” said Ms. Chumlig. “Please stay a moment. That bell ‘did not toll for you.’” She smiled, no doubt pleased by her command of literary allusion. “Your poem was so beautiful. I want to apologize to you, for the class. They had no right to put the — ” She gestured at the air above his head. “What?”
“Never mind. This is not a truly talented class, I fear.” She look at him quizzically. “It’s hard to believe you’re seventy-five years old; modern medicine is working miracles. I’ve had a number of senior students. I understand your problems.”
“Ah, you do.”
“Anything you do in this class will be a favor for the others here. I hope you’ll stay, help them. Rework your poem with some student’s visuals. They can learn from you — and you can learn the skills that will make the world a more comfortable place for you.”
Robert gave her a little smile. There would always be cretins like Louise Chumlig. Fortunately, she found something else to focus on: “ Oh ! Look at the time! I’ve got to start Remote Studies. Please excuse me.” Chumlig turned and walked to the center of the classroom. She jabbed a hand toward the top row of seats. “Welcome, class. Sandi, stop playing with the unicorns!”
Robert stared at the empty room, and the woman talking to herself. So much technology…
Outside, the students had dispersed. Robert was left to ponder his reen-counter with “academia.” It could have been worse. His little poem had been more than
“Very well. Thank you, Robert. That is all we have time for today. Class, your next assignment is to collaborate and improve on what you have already done. It’s up to you to find local partners for this step. Send me the teamings and your game plan before we meet next time.” The Ignominious Details would be in the mail by the time they got home.
Then the class bell — triggered by Chumlig, in fact — rang out. By the time Juan got himself out of his chair, he was in the tail end of the mad rush for the door. It didn’t matter. He was a little dazed by the strange form of virtual virtual reality that Robert Gu had created.
Behind him he could see that Gu had finally figured out the class was over. He would be outside with the rest of them in a few seconds. My chance to enlist him for the Lizard . And maybe something else. He thought on the old man’s magic words. Maybe, maybe, they could collaborate. Everybody had laughed at Robert Gu. But before the Pompous Bird had been launched, before they had laughed, Juan Orozco had felt the awed silence. And he did that with words alone …
When Robert walked to the front of the class, he was more irritated than nervous. He had wowed students for thirty years. He could wow them with the bit of verse he had composed for today. He turned, and looked out the class. “A poem,” he said. “Three hundred words. I tell you about the land of North County as it really is, here and beyond.” The poem was a pastoral cliche, composed last night and based on his memories of San Diego and what he saw on the drive to Fairmont. But for a few moments, his words held them, just as in the old days.
When he was done there was a moment of absolute silence. What impressionable children. He looked over at the Adult Ed people, saw the jagged, hostile smile on Winston Blount’s face. Envious as ever, eh, Winnie ?
Then a pair of oafs near the front started laughing. That precipitated scattered giggles. “Class!” Chumlig stepped forward and everyone applauded, even Blount.
Chumlig said a few more words. Then the class bell rang and the students were all rushing for the door. He started after them.
“Ah, Robert,” said Ms. Chumlig. “Please stay a moment. That bell ‘did not toll for you.’” She smiled, no doubt pleased by her command of literary allusion. “Your poem was so beautiful. I want to apologize to you, for the class. They had no right to put the — ” She gestured at the air above his head. “What?”
“Never mind. This is not a truly talented class, I fear.” She look at him quizzically. “It’s hard to believe you’re seventy-five years old; modern medicine is working miracles. I’ve had a number of senior students. I understand your problems.”
“Ah, you do.”
“Anything you do in this class will be a favor for the others here. I hope you’ll stay, help them. Rework your poem with some student’s visuals. They can learn from you — and you can learn the skills that will make the world a more comfortable place for you.”
Robert gave her a little smile. There would always be cretins like Louise Chumlig. Fortunately, she found something else to focus on: “ Oh ! Look at the time! I’ve got to start Remote Studies. Please excuse me.” Chumlig turned and walked to the center of the classroom. She jabbed a hand toward the top row of seats. “Welcome, class. Sandi, stop playing with the unicorns!”
Robert stared at the empty room, and the woman talking to herself. So much technology…
Outside, the students had dispersed. Robert was left to ponder his reen-counter with “academia.” It could have been worse. His little poem had been more than
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