Calling

Three more guests visited us on the 3^rd: Codruţa, Adrian and their adorable son, Darian (who seems to get on very well with Theodor). We chatted over another wee evening meal (fish and vegetables) and listened to a few 80s hits (by Giorgio Moroder, La Bionda, Bee Gees, Blondy, Baccara, Eurythmics). Adrian was wondering whether it’s us (our generation) who overrate the sound of the 80s or is it a fact that the 90s and contemporary pop (with all its subdivisions) have lost the poetic feeling the oldies (70s, 80s) used to have. Of course, we should not give in to stereotypical thinking - there are fine songs among today's hits, too. Yet, it seems that music has become less and less poetic. Another type of of metaphor is now hiding behind lyrics and notes - and that is unquestionable. Their gift for me was a funny green cup with a bearded teacher (which looks like Romanian philosopher Andrei Pleşu) on it, saying “The Best Teacher”…

Today I was on duty at school. Surprisingly enough, the two students who were also on duty seemed unusually mature and sensible for their age (they are 18) – many of their mates aren’t. One of them asked me if I was to choose my future again would I be a teacher…I said I would definitely study harder at Maths and Physics. On second thoughts I think it is still early to reflect on such issues – maybe I should consider this when I have aged enough to get close to the retiring age. Yet, I do love what I am doing and I thoroughly enjoy being surrounded by teens – I like being contaminated by their energy and light-heartedness. It is a kind of calling to me and I am trying to meet the expectations my students (who want to learn and study) have of me. On the other hand who can point at what I was meant to be?

(P.S. This day started off rather badly: on the tram there was an elderly woman (in her 60s she was) – a homeless maybe, with a couple of carrier bags beside her - and she kept talking and talking loudly – or perhaps shouting at an imaginary interlocutor. She was wearing a wig that she would scratch (fleas?) and would look in the tram’s glass…For I moment I remembered that she was not the only one who behaved like that – thousands and thousands of homeless will talk like her to imaginary people, suffering from loneliness and hunger and lack of self-esteem. I would love to know how and when and why her illness started…)