Common Interest

The Advisor and I are having lunch at this hard-to-find creole restaurant that he picked. I've never eaten there.

"So, I'm having troubles in one of my classes--my grade is fine, it's good--I'm just getting upset over some of my classmates' insensitive remarks."

"What kind of remarks?"

I explain briefly.

"That's ignorance. You can't instruct it. Their brains haven't even finished developing," he assures me. "If you need to deal with it, do it outside of class."

I couldn't imagine approaching any of my fellow classmates outside of class, in between buildings or maybe stalking them as they go into the library or out into the parking lot to find their cars, and then chastising them like an angry fanatic who's attended too many NAMI meetings (not to say one shouldn't attend NAMI meetings)--for comments that they probably don't even remember making.

He continues, "You're going to deal with that all your life." He tells the story of his son, who returned to college after ten years in the Army and was in combat, and he said his son had to listen to eighteen-year-olds talk about war, like they knew something about it.

"I have nothing in common with them!" I say, partially hoping he'd say, yes, you do, Jae, you have the common interest of pursuing knowledge and becoming better equipped citizens of this vast, uncontrollable, confusing world. 

"Of course you don't!"