Gandhi's Guide to Getting By

chapter ten

My classes at Benton Valby have degenerated to the point where we hardly bother to pretend it's about teaching English. "A social networking course in English", this is what Peter calls it. He, and a whole bunch of others at Benton Valby, think I'm providing an "invaluable service." I laugh when he says this. He looks offended. He tells me not to laugh and that he's narrowed it down to "percentages". "Percentages?" I look at him like he's crazy. "Yes, Emma, percentages. Two years I work here and I meet, what, 5%, maybe 10% of the people? Now I meet 25%? 30%? You see? You see how your course is providing an invaluable service?" I nod. "I'm a regular Florence Nightingale," I say. He asks me who that is. I tell him. He says, "Okay, now you exaggerate your importance." I tell him I was being ironic. "Ironic? What is that?" I explain. He thinks about it for a minute. He asks me to give him an example. "My life," I tell him. "Ahh," he says, "Now I get it."

I give my six Thursday morning students a once over to make sure everyone is busy. According to Ms. Green, it's gotten to the point where there are "serious waiting lists" for each of my ten classes. Ms. Green calls this "unprecedented". It's so "unprecedented", Benton Valby has actually added two Thursday morning classes for the American-born, English speaking employees. Ms. Green doesn't find this strange. She finds it wonderful. "Wonderful?" I looked at her the same way I looked at Peter when he said "invaluable service". "Wonderful," she repeated. She gave me a reassuring pat on the back. "You," she said, "should be proud that you've inspired people to improve their writing skills. Effective communication, Emma, that's what it's all about. Obviously you know all about effective communication."

Roughly translated, Ms. Green's "effective communication" means Thursday mornings are now reserved for the divorced employees of Benton Valby who need a few creative adjectives to help communicate their desirability to other newly single people. I'm just trying to figure out how long before Ms. Green realizes that Benton Valby's happily married employees are the only ones not registered for my courses.

R u teaching? Would like to talk to u. A text, from Matt.

Feel free to call, I text back.

Thirty seconds later and his voice is saying, "I was afraid you'd be in the middle of teaching a class."

I tell him that's exactly what I'm doing, but my students are in the process of "re-inventing themselves" which means I have a few minutes. "Re-inventing?" Matt says. "I thought you were teaching English."

Yeah, me too, I almost answer. Karen, one of my students, asks me what sounds better: "I am a young forty-something-year-old woman" OR "I just turned thirty-two, Again." I tell her to go with the second choice. "Remember," I say, "Men like women with a sense of humor."

"Emma?" Matt says, "What's going on?"

"You might say I'm giving the old teaching English as a second language a new twist, " I say which is about as close to the truth as I can get without getting arrested. Frank holds up the picture he had taken over the weekend. Is he serious? I mean there's photoshop and then there's getting someone twenty years younger and forty pounds thinner to pose for you. "Assuming someone agrees to meet you in person," I tell Frank, "Will you be going or will the guy in the picture be going?" Frank says I have a point and tears the picture up. I tell him to work on his write up. I also give him the name of Rinaldo's photographer.

"Emma Watson," Matt says, "What the hell are you doing over at Benton Valby?"

I tell him "it's a long story." Matt tells me he's been busy. I nod while he talks, even though he can't see me do this. I know about long hours and big name law firms. I have two parents who have spent more time at Holden Storms than they have at home. I even suspect Dad is trying to figure out how to turn his three window office into a "getaway apartment". Twice I've caught him looking at Murphy beds where the bed disappears into a wall unit which looks like office furniture. Ax thinks he's on "the verge." She looks at me when she says this, as if I, personally, am putting our father on "the verge." "Wait until he finds out about the dating service you're running," she says, "Boy, he'll really be on the verge then."