Dad in School

When my father returned home from WWII, he finished high school, and on the GI Bill, he attended college at NYU. I realize how much I am like him when I read this piece, an exercise for the class in which he received only a B. His diatribe was early evidence of my father's tendency toward a certain verbal intensity, and sense of justice even in small things. He was bright, and impatient. He, and this is something I inherited, didn't much like criticism, and barely tolerated even reasonable critique.

But here, I kind of understand his pique. I had difficulty when I went back to school for a while, at 40, with professors whose life was safely inside the ivory tower, being firm and rule bound with people who worked in the outside world. That might not be fair, but there it is. I also share a tendency toward anger when I feel that justice is not being done.

Now my father seems to be referring to some incident that occurred before this particular piece. I sense the professor both sort of chastising my father for his expectations always to be given the highest grade, but also rather liking his assertions, and admiring him.

I happen to agree with the Professor, and if my dad were alive I think he'd be upset at me for saying it, that this wasn't one of my father's best pieces. But it is part of who he was, very long ago.

And I want to save what I can of him.