hateful no humble
Is there any other kind of people worth my disdain as much as the teacher kind? Oh my, how I hold you in disdain.
Oh, my teacher, you who wakes up early in the morning, and wastes not a moment of a day to become. Who falls asleep early, but whose heart is on the lookout. Who lives in the mountains and feeds on honey and locust. Who has no syllabus and no desire to lecture. Who reads no Kant before he has read the everyday. Who has no disciples but a stray dog. Who casts fire and it burns. You got the love.
Oh teachers, how I hold you in disdain.
Flying high and low. What a comfy, safe mid-position you have taken, Daedalus. High enough to look down on the failing, but just low enough to notice and look up to the one who ‘casts fire’. Why not embrace the flames and make them yours?
Once I had a chance to exchange opinions about teaching with a humble guy, yet an artist. The profession you hold in such a disdain was compared by him to the art of staging. This is what we both agreed on. It seems to me that what you are really afraid of is to become an actor of a part that has not been written for you. There is no hazard it may happen to you, as long as you are afraid that you might experience it.
You are all so very beautiful. You can’t be teachers, can you?