June 20, 2006

Dear Colleague,

   Last Wednesday, I was having lunch alone at the Lakefront Cafeteria when I heard a buzz of excited young voices around me. I looked up and saw girls and boys about the age of ten to thirteen. They asked whether they could sit with me. I was surprised, for there were several unoccupied tables nearby. Still, I said yes. They sat and opened their lunch boxes. "Where do you go to school," I asked. "Hamilton Middle," they replied and went on to explain that they were on a photo- and movie-making expedition. The girl sitting on my right asked politely, "How is the day for you this far?" I said, "Boring--until you guys came to my rescue." The girls giggled appreciatively. To the girl on my left I asked, "Do you take pictures of people?" She said yes, but that she always asked permission first. "Too bad I am not in your show," I said. "Oh, but I would love to take your picture," she enthused.

"Unfortunately, our cameras are in the teacher's locker." "What do you do?" she asked me. "Nothing," I replied, which set off another round of giggling. "I mean, I retired about eight years ago. I used to teach at the U and still have an office in Science Hall." At that point, the boy sitting opposite me spoke for the first time, and offered the information that his dad teaches at the U. "Oh, and what subject?" The boy wasn't sure and mumbled something like "science." The girls said that they would all like to go to the U one day. The boy hesitated and said, "It will be expensive." "Yes," I agreed, "but the U will throw in Lake Mendota for free." "Cool," was the girls' reply. "Have you heard of Spring Harbor Middle School?" I asked. "I spoke there once." I said this to establish closer connection with the children. They have heard of Spring Harbor and they wanted to know whether I enjoyed speaking there. I said no, "because I couldn't even get the students to sit down: they much preferred a game of musical chairs to my talk." More giggles.

    At this point, it occurred to me that only the girls giggled. The girls were totally liberated. They could act girlish or boyish; they could paint their toes red--as they did--and still be physical when they felt like it. Sad to say, boys enjoyed no such freedom: they could only be boys; acting girlish would have been out of the question. No wonder American boys are in such a mess.

    I finished my lunch and got up to leave. The children smiled and waved goodbye. I felt pleased with myself. It's always been a source of pride to me that I could engage undergrads and grads in extended conversation. But to throw words like "cool" around with young teens, well, that's an altogether higher order of achievement. I think I can do it because I have grown old without having grown up, by which I mean that I have skipped the normal stages of life--courtship, marriage, and children. The middle-schoolers and I know these things only in abstraction. Knowing them in the concrete is, of course, enormously rewarding, but it can also scar. In a sense, the children and I have yet to eat the fruit from the Tree of Good and Evil.

Best wishes,

Yi-Fu