the meanings we mean

So today while I was enjoying the hippie goodness of my Nature's Path Cereal, I heard this story on NPR and it stopped me cold. This is exactly what I'm going to be studying about today in Richmond at about 5:30, and it mentally prepared me to be willing to listen to what my teacher had to say. Instead of dismissing it all with my favorite line, "Those who can't do, teach; and those who can't teach, teach teaching." So, the iceberg is the crucial image here, and I'm waking up to the fact that I've been teaching Latin only at the tip of the iceberg. This is a tremendous breakthrough for me, and hopefully it will make me a better teacher.


For instance, I wonder what the iceberg can tell me about this. Janna and I were driving home from my niece/goddaughter, Hazel's, baptism, yesterday. (Hazel, by the way, looked incredibly precious in her mother's old baby clothes.) But from the sublime to the offensive. On this trip, we stopped to fill up or relieve ourselves (or myself) in several gas stations which were in a more or less rural area. As per local tradition, many ridiculously thoughtful things are left inscribed upon these bathroom walls. I had the idea, upon which I did not act, that I should add to the conversation by posting something such as the following.

Osama is my president!

Viva the Towelheads!

We're here, we're queer gay-married terrorist abortion doctors who burn the flag so get used to it!

Camelhumpers unite, you have nothing to lose but your right to buy statues of skeletons riding motorcycles made in China by slave labor!

Their is no God but Al-lah and his prophet is whup-ass!

Join Al-Qaeda! See the world! Get some virgins! Call 1-888-2N4-MFBI.

Now imagine all that written in sharpie above the toilet paper next to, "Be here at 4:30 on Mondays for some head." Maybe next trip.