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I got such a lovely letter today from a former student of mine. I have it right here: It’s written in crayon due to the fact, as he says, that they cannot use anything sharp where he’s at. Still, it’s written quite well, which is no surprise— he was talented, thoughtful, and I did a good job of teaching, as usual (if I do say so) as I opened his eyes by driving all notions of heaven or hell or absolutes out of his mind, reminding him, meanwhile, how dreadful the world is without hope, and how little man is, and how weak, how despicable (if, of course, anything even exists— about which we gave him good reason to doubt). I certainly had just the best of intentions for focusing all of our daily attentions on all of the negative aspects of life. Still, he’s happy, he says, even so where he is, and the people who care for him do a good job (if it can be there is any such thing as “good”). He’s in therapy daily, with such a good attitude, even about all the ECT. |
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