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The same thing can be said about teaching. Last week, in one of my classes, the dwarf wriggled out from under Shiva's foot, and the dance between teacher and student fell far short of joy and fulfillment.

I had asked students in the Old World Culture class to be moderators for various topics, and Charlotte, a middle-aged woman of unusual ability and sensitivity, had signed up for "The Iliad." But I completely forgot her in my desire to read to the class the scene in which Priam, the king of Troy, comes to the tent of Achilles begging for the body of his son Hector, whom Achilles has killed. Caught up in the passion of the scene and my own charisma, I poured forth the lines, hardly aware of the class at all and certainly unaware of Charlotte. I was feasting at the table of my own theatricality.

I stopped at the point where the old man entreats Achilles to remember his own father, whom he has left unattended in Greece, and the two men weep together for the fate of fathers and sons. It is a scene of compelling drama and compassion.

"Can we even imagine Gen. Westmoreland and Gen. Giap, commanders of the U.S. and Vietnamese forces, engaging in such a scene?" I cried, and went on with my stentorian reading, convinced that I was engaged in an act of complete transformation.

"You see, Achilles, having started out the play as a real s.o.b., refusing to fight because another Greek general, Agamemnon, had slighted him, learns and grows in this scene, becomes aware of his humanity and that of his adversary. The story ceases to be a war story at this point and becomes a story about the growth of consciousness."

I was almost shouting, triumphant, exultant in my optimism about the human capacity for change. Here was the reason I had chosen "The Iliad" in the first place, the justification for the whole course. Wow, this was great stuff!

I could feel heat rising in my face as I glanced around the room. Students were transfixed, as they always are in the presence of such commitment, such mastery. But Charlotte wasn't buying it. She almost stood up as she gripped the front of her desk.

Next page | Oops, she actually read the book