As it is true for the moon, my mind's propensity to thirst for the printed words waxes and wanes. How opportune, then, the discovery of a certain book coinciding with the fulling thirst of my mind. By the bye, this literati waxes lyrical his ability to craft stylized sentences adroitly, revealing a certain something he is full of, a four letter word that begins with "s" and ends with "t."
Whatever.
Reading NYTimes.com lead me to find a book written by a journalist with the Washington Post, Alec Klein, who went back to his alma mater high school, which by the way happens to be mine as well, and wrote about what he observed in the span of one Spring Term. The book is called, "A Class Apart."
The students he profiled resembled so many of the people I knew at school that I couldn't help but feel a bit nostalgic. I was also shocked to learn about what happened to a teacher I was fond of and greatly respected. She was briefly mentioned, but the impact of learning her fate was great. But then, I got to thinking about the power of books. This book that captures the lives of a handful of students and teachers joins a vast library that can endure for many generations to come. When a hand of a person in the future grabs the book, the lives of the written people will have life again. My AP Bio teacher will live again. And in a way, until I leave a mark more profound, I, too, can live again...
Eh, I'm full of shit.
