…I’m old for a college freshman. Not Rodney Dangerfield in Back to School old, but let’s just say that I’m pleased when the other students remark that I could pass for twenty six. At least it’s a step in the right direction … and much like Dangerfield, I’m often demanding respect, at least from myself. So today as I sat at my desk wondering how I tested so poorly on my math assessment test, especially after once finishing pre-calculus in high school, I shifted my critical gaze to the man in the blue blazer behind the desk, Mr. Schwanebake. Class had not yet started and I was still recovering from the embers of serrano peppers that I had chopped into my chili from the night before. The precipitation still fresh from my visit to the bathroom left my perceptions superficial. It seemed to me that everything about this man who was to about lead me on a three month trip down a mathematical memory lane conjured images of a teacher I once had in high school who taught both US History and photography … and seemed to enjoy neither.  The clock ticked and Schwanebake had so far not spoken once, he sat stoicly entranced as if he were correcting homework that had not yet been given, but just as the clock hit eleven he began to raise his head slowly … as if breaking from a day dream of algorithms and a life time of hangovers … as if the panels in the ceiling of the classroom were not hiding cheap halogen tubes but instead an applause of stage lights, all of them converging on his face.  He grinned, and dramatically raised one finger up to the sky. Then, purposefully, he flexed it down and pressed play on a tape recorder hidden behind a stack of papers and stood up. His grin became a full fledged smile as he walked between the aisle of desks beginning a slow clap along to the music. The track playing was something I’d heard before, but not something from an actual album, perhaps a soundtrack to a movie? something cheesy. Karate Kid? The scene just before the big tournament between Daniel and Kobra Kai? I was almost sure of it!  Schwanebake, now clapping and bobbing his head, began to chant. “Math Lovers!!! Math Lovers!!! Math Lovers!!!” Not one student seemed to know one from the other until we began to make eye contact, confirming this absurd ice breaking technique unfolding before our eyes with raised eyebrows and finally big laughs. An absurd ploy flawlessly executed. Kudos Schwanebake, Kudos indeed! I’m sure we’ll be hearing a bit more from you in the future.

I walked away from the class delighted that with or without his mind bending antics I was ready for school, and that as entertaining as he was - also blurting out that his variables “t” and “v” did not stand for transvestite - I was no longer in need of these Dead Poet Society tricks to keep me interested, even for the most remedial of classes.