what thin people say about fat people

Up in the night from fitful dreams.  Ming's eating popcorn.  I feel uncharmed by my usual things.

When I was in grad school, teaching, I had a student named Charmy.  She was great.

Yesterday at lunch when my friend was explaining me and Ming to his mom, he told her how Ming used to be a nurse and I used to be a teacher.  I don't know if that helped her get a handle on us.

Long long time ago when I was teaching at UC Irvine, I approached the local old folks' home offering to volunteer teach a low-key poetry class for the residents.  The person I asked told me she thought the old folks couldn't handle it, but we could try.

I chose poems I thought they'd like, printed them out in large font.  Robert Frost, Elizabeth Bishop.  I brought a small dictionary.  We read the poems out loud and talked about them. 

It was a great class, and I enjoyed teaching it but canceled a lot because I was doing too much and had untreated anxiety.

One day two ladies were in the class who didn't even know where they were, I don't think.  They were in the room by accident.  One said to the other, "Well goodness, how did she let herself get so fat?"

The other lady replied, "Yes, I don't know how people do that to themselves."

I was wearing this dark blue rayon dress I really liked, I remember, with flowers on it.  I wore the heck out of that dress.

When it was time for me to move away, the old folks home gave me a teeshirt advertising their place as a parting gift.  It was too small and didn't fit me.

That was such a weird time.  I taught lots of places: old folks' home, university, community college, reservation.  Private tutor for rich kids.  Chinese school.

I guess I really was a teacher.  Oh, and I graded papers for a high school teacher.  I think she exploited me.  I remember portfolios about To Kill a Mockingbird, which I never read.

Well, maybe my bad dreams are gone now and I should go back to bed.