Between a Teacher and her Students
Let me be clear before I go any further: I've met Janette Turner Hospital precisely once, and as such, I will not comment directly on her character--though I've since enjoyed better workshops. Instead, I will focus on this more recent construct of hers, one sent to me by way of a creature known as a listserv.
To say that I'm appalled is to ignore my own somewhat contentious relationship with American education. I've fought with professors, with teachers, with assistant lecturers. And I've also been the embittered chalk-bearer. So I can understand, wholeheartedly, the relish Ms. Hospital takes in 'sharing' her abudant wealth. I can also fully appreciate the disgust with which her former pupils have responded. What I question is their intentionality. Their vituperativeness.
to this day, I recall, with both shame and sadness, the great revely wherein my classmates embellished their semester evaluations. I remember, in particular, my undergraduate writing professor, and how she confronted me upon receiving those letters.
"What kind of seditious collusion had occurred in her absence," she asked, "And why had I said nothing?"
The latter was only implied; but I felt it nonetheless.
I didn't have the wherewithal, then, to tell her that they were right.
