Short Nothings

One of the fringe benefits of teaching is what I call my short nothings. These are the snippets of conversations in the hallway, stairs, and vacant rooms, or the “Zion” (a cozy diner-cum-coffee shop manned by the our International Hotel School) with my students.

The topics range from a vacation in some island, the parking lot squeeze, the latest movie or digicam, blogs, to some angst, and today, the oncoming Valentine’s Day—the day I dread: the day they celebrate. I often forget that the youth view things differently.

My short nothings are my reality check. In those little moments, I try to see things from their perspective. (Mine has been narrowed by battle scars, age, and spurts of unwanted cynicism.)

“Miss, I still don’t have a date,” said one.

“You will,” I replied, “but not necessarily on Valentine’s Day. Any day is as good as any other to have a date.”

“Oh?” asked with a slight raise of one eyebrow.

“Oh, yes. Don't forget, we only invented Valentine’s Day,” I said, remembering myself as a marketer who would create romantic promotions and events to excite the young on this day.

“Yeah,” said with an endearing smile. But I could read his thought balloon, “Oh, sure.”

I know that expression. I see it all the time on my sons' faces when they don’t really agree, but obey anyway because I said so. It makes a mother feel like she’s received a dozen roses or a box of chocolates.

In my short nothings, my students teach me more than I teach them. Indeed, even the hallway, stairs, vacant rooms, and the “Zion” are places of grace.