Which Reminds Me

Yes, why are you imagining that it is my job to explain the presence of the Calabrian monstrosity in our high school class? How did that happen? I just have no idea. In 10th grade she may have boasted of being well informed of and/or well connected to the moneyed establishment of San Francisco, but that was part of a discussion of the Patty Hearst kidnapping, which was much in the news at the time, directed more at our English teacher, Miss Marken, than any of the rest of us. Although she sits directly in front of me in the alphabetical order of things, she coyly avoids speaking to me directly. She imagines that I am so fascinated with overhearing what little worthless dabs of conversation she may exchange with the Italians nearby such as Carmen, and thus later in life she and the Italian cohort of brownies will ride herd on poor clueless white people such as myself. Thus, I studiously avoid any display of interest in anything they might say. Why should I voluntarily serve up my own head on a platter? No, I will not make it easy for them to do that to me. I will just not be available.