I'm standing in the back of a high school classroom I just crashed. The door is directly behind me. In front of me are rows of desks, filled with improbably bright-eyed students. To the left and right of me, surrounding the desks with their students and consuming the remaining space in the room, are dozens of uncomfortable twenty-somethings. It's standing room only with an opening in the front for a teacher to lecture. At the edge of that opening is a front-facing couch. Sitting on the couch are a few more college-age people. The overall mood is of a line for a new Harry Potter movie, just moments before the theatre staff open the doors.
I'm being pushed and shoved by the mass of bodies in this increasingly hot room. This is distracting to the point that I missed the teacher's entrance. He's now talking, and I can't hear him! Waves of frustration pass through me, and my respect for the punctuality pecking order begins to wane. Pushing forward, I make my way through the rows of desks and hop over the back of the couch - landing on the lap of a girl. She pushes me off her. The others on the couch and her move to provide additional room. One of them just finished asking a question, but I didn't quite catch it.
The teacher obviously is nearing the end of his thirties. His face has developed the first wrinkles of the variety easily mistaken for distinguishment. He speaks with authority, but adds a questioning tone that encourages his audience to express their own opinion. His lecturing style encourages critical questioning - I immediately like him. His overall dress and appearance is conservative and therefore not distracting. There is no aura of pretentiousness.
He stops speaking and considers an unheard question. I watch him look around the packed classroom. He knows everyone is here because the topic of his lecture is provocative. His eyes twinkle has he opens his mouth, and delivers the following:
Class, you either got it, or you don't.A few people nod their heads in agreement.
You will either stand or you will fall.I still don't know what he's talking about. I'm frustrated and feel like this is starting to be a waste of my time.
When your will is broken, when it slips from your hand...A suspicious urge causes me to quickly look around the classroom and pay attention to the students more closely. Everyone is smiling as if they know what he's talking about. Oddly, there is a current of increasing tension. Many are tapping their toes rapidly, others are looking tense, some are mouthing the words as the teacher speaks. A laughable worry floats through my head that this is a rant about the war.
... when there's no time for joking, there's a hole in the plan.Too late, it clicks in my head. The entire class breaks out in song!
Oh you don't mean nothing at all to me
No you don't mean nothing at all to me
Do you got what it takes to set me free?
Oh you could mean everything to me.The teacher jogs up and down the aisles. Students are laughing. The lecture has turned into a sing-along!
I can't say - (someone repeats) say
- that I'm not lost and at fault
I can't say - (they do it again!) say
- that I don't love the light and the dark
I can't say that I don't know that I am alive
And all of what I feel I could show
You tonight - (the entire class sings) you tonightOh you don't mean nothing at all to me -
(The men all shout) hey!
No you don't mean nothing at all to me -
(The women all shout) hey!
Do you got what it takes to set me free?
Oh you could mean everything to me.I realize I'm dreaming, so I wake up.
That's the last time I go to sleep with
Say It Right on my playlist.
