It's all very fascinating really.

I was in a tutoring session a few minutes ago. The student in question and I were working very hard on a paper about the person in his or her life that inspired him or her the most. The source of inspiration was an uncle, born out of poverty in one of those countries you assume growing out of poverty is the norm who came to this country to make something of himself. A millionaire. That's what he made of himself. In and of itself, I was inspired because I was born a generation out of a generation born of poverty and all I got to be was an educator helping students write papers about people who truly inspire them.
Then, the bell rang for lunch and he was gone. Barely a goodbye. Nary a thank you as he grabbed the remainder of his paperwork. Should I have expected anything in return. No, perhaps not. I, after all, am not the sort of person that inspires greatness. Millionaire uncles are.
I guess I can go take a lunch break myself as no one else has come in to my office hours. I think I'll go drive around the neighborhood and smoke a cigarette while I contemplate why I should encourage kids to stay in school when I'm frantically trying to get out.



Something important could be going on here. I just don't know.