I expect to get a run for my money on the jiu jitsu mat. But I wasn't expecting one off the mat this Thanksgiving when I visited a gym with Cousin of Shark Girl.
I traveled back to my hometown. Cousin of Shark Girl was at dinner, and we made plans to catch a class the next morning to roll off all that pasta and stuffing.
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Yes, pasta. We are Italian American!
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Cousin and I were the first there, except for a man in his thirties,
kind of oddly shaped and out of shape. He seemed out of place for a
high-powered jiu jitsu class. While
my cousin changed, the man, I’ll call him Silvio, asked us what we did.
“We’re
teachers,” I said.
“What
do you teach?”
“He
teaches physics,” I pointed to the curtain behind which my cousin was changing.
“She
teaches Latin,” Cousin called from behind the curtain.
“Are
you married?” We get that a lot when we visit gyms together. Most people think
we are a couple, not related.
“No, we’re
cousins.”
“Oh. I
thought you were married.”
“Nope.”
“So . .
.” Silvio hesitated. I held my breath. I knew this was going to be good. “Latin, huh?”
“Yep.” There are basically 3 reactions I get when people find out I teach Latin:
#1 Isn’t that a dead language?
#2 I took that in high school thirty years ago. I hated it.
#3 I took that in high school thirty years ago. I loved it. Let me recite something for you.
#2 I took that in high school thirty years ago. I hated it.
#3 I took that in high school thirty years ago. I loved it. Let me recite something for you.
This looked like it was headed toward response #1.
“What’s
the point of that?” he asked.
Seriously?
You are not seriously asking me that? By this time, I realized that “Silvio” had
some issues that I should, as a sensitive person, be alert to and compassionate
about. But this just pushed my buttons. Sometimes patience is beyond my reach.
“What
do YOU do?” I asked.
“Nothing.”
he replied.
Round 1
goes to the Latin teacher. But not a very sweet victory.
