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Show 42, Jeffries, Islamorada [Section 2] sit around building ships in bottles. In the back of my mind is still the writing, and I have to allow myself another couple of years before I give up on writing as a way of escaping from being a teacher, especially in regard to the way some of these rich kids down here see teachers, as pedagogues, in the original sense of the slaves who hauled books around. What a place. Oh well, do you know about solipsism? Maybe the universe exists only in the mind of some third-grader in Akron. So when he draws his map of the U.S., with his blocky Atlantic coast, the pleasantly phallic peninsula of Florida, he'll leave out the Keys and we'll be gone. Gone. Not even bubbles in his green crayola sea. "I might have something for you," the parson told Dorian Clayton. "It's beyond the stage of a rumor; we've the monies; next year we'll be opening a Christian school." "That's all I need." "Dorian how do you think the children would feel about alternative education?" the parson coaxed. "Is there a groundswell for the Little Lord Jesus?" The parson was making inroads around the school. |
