The Valley Storefront is small, bright, with its own gift shop, intimate dining hall, and gym, not to mention a small classroom with a whiteboard, and chairs perfect for classes in the round.
Adult education takes place here, and thank God it still does.
I am learning a thing or two. And I am supposed to be the" teacher."
Today at the "Mental Fitness" class, a wise student piped up, "Can't we just call it 'Memory Class?' What you have written down there is so depressing!"
If you can bear that moment of silence, the one that comes after you ask a question, you might be rewarded.
Older adult students are righteous. They are truth-seekers. They don't just believe in life-learning learning. They get out of bed, dress elegantly, and show up with their questions, humour, skepticism, their don't-you-dare-pity-me charm, their chutzpah.
"What are you gonna do for us?" they ask. "Why don't you have the tables set up?"
Their former teacher used to bring puzzles and games and handouts.
I explain that I need to listen to them.
"What do you need to know about? What interests you? What do you want to know about me?" I ask.
And after the moment of silence, they do start asking me things. Where I got my education. How I found my way to LA. What books I recommend on Memory.
The questions lead the way. Better than bread crumbs.
They do remind me that I am not out in this wilderness alone.
In fact, that idea of the teacher being the Fearless Know-It-All has got to go. Since when did I ever know it all? Those people in that room been around. They know things. They just got old before me. Education is a conversation. Not a monologue.
So,first, teacher, be quiet. Listen. The wisest do. And I was with wise people today. Bless 'em.
More adventures to come.
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