On the Benefits of Teaching


On the first day of class students often sat next to him. His frame thin, he had spent the years from thirteen to twenty-nine pretty much exclusively in hiding. A hand to cover his crotch. A hand to cover his mouth. As a result his face was not as used as most thirty-year olds'. Untried in social situations, he remained unwrinkled by the grins, frowns or surprise that stamp a face. He sat, respectful of the students he taught, grateful for their company.

When he began teaching he found the social contact, being the sudden centre of attention, a thrill. He would laugh, delighted, sometimes so hard that he had to pretend to be about to write something on the board until his laughter could be concealed. The white glinting surface - like a raised shaving mirror - gave nothing back.

He approached his students as people, asked questions out of interest and not specifically to elicit an answer. Not he the jaded, mildly drunk figure muttering about 'pond-life' in the staffroom.

After teaching he didn't feel the need to socialise further.

Teaching made him the centre of attention. He had to talk. There was no room for reticence. He learned to be forthcoming.