Monday, September 17, 2007


In (what must have been) first grade, I had a teacher who read a story to the class in which the narrator tries to disabuse people of the notion that there are bears on Hemlock Mountain. Our teacher would read the line this way: “There are no bears on Hemlock Mountain!” I don’t know who wrote the story, how it ended, or what anyone else in class felt, but that “line reading” scared the hell out of me. It was my first encounter with irony, which is perhaps why I’ve never forgotten it.

1 comment:

ximbo said...

I was 5 years old. I was in kindergarten. It was lunchtime. I was about to remove my baloney and ketchup sandwich, which my mother had lovingly prepared, from its wax paper wrapping. The teacher's husband, a fat little man with a big red nose, noticed that the child beside me had no lunch. Without asking my permission, fatso unwrapped my sandwich, muttered something about my not minding sharing my sandwich, and gave half of it to the other child. This was my first encounter with socialism.