you walk in a little dazed, you have mud streaks and dirty sneaks that don't look like yours from trailblazing in the backwoods of your school-you have undeniable munchies-you forget the most important of your appendages: your phone-you heave everything you can in sight, not to mention the strange spasms of ideas and talk that are happening in your head--that you have to sensor...and most of all--your dorm faculty knows.
PS. even the smartest don't think: episode in class this past saturday: Sophomores reading an Allen Ginsberg poem, and the name 'Walt Whitman' comes up.
"Who is Walt Whitman?" one curiously asks.
"I know," this one girl says, "He's the one that makes the boxes of candy at walgreens."
????
"Wait, wasn't Whitman like a famous romantic poet?"
?!?!?!okay, on the right track....but COME ON!
"No, dear student, Whitman, as in Walt Whitman, was NOT a chocolate maker. He is not the same Whitman of the Whitman Sampler boxes..."
"HE'S NOT!? " shock and awe. both ways. Exeter: Raising tomorrow's leaders; the best and the brightest. I have to keep telling myself: it's just high school still. They're just teenagers. Lather rinse and repeat.
