Silent Solometo
We had this teacher who barely talked. Name was Solometo. Middle-aged guy with a thick beard, kind of red tint in the brown when the sun hit it right. Always wore old brown boots. 10th grade history. He was a mystery to most of us. New to the school.
First day, he wrote... My vocal cords were shredded a few years ago. Too much screaming into the abyss. He shared a simple process sheet about how the class would go. He emphasized it was about discussion. Question prompts on the board. You copy them down, think about them, respond in writing first. Together, we'd discuss these questions. You’ll listen to each other. You’ll discuss and debate, with respect. If I write follow-up questions, copy them down.
He’d write these juicy either/or questions. “Kill or be killed?” "Have kids or don't have kids?" One class he wrote, “Would you rather be right or be happy.”
That was the best conversation I’d ever heard. Kids who never talked, even they jumped in. Every confident 15- or 16-year-old thinks they’re always right. I'm pretty sure none of us were happy. Sucks being a teenager. Least most of the time, but this guy Silent Solometo, that’s what some of us called him, he got us all lit up. Like we were on a debate stage.
I was miserable those days. Barely wanted to get out of bed. Mom had gotten sick that summer. Was getting weaker by the day. My nutty Aunt Jeannie came to live with us. Had a pack-a-day habit, but she kept it outside because of Mom. That’s how I got hooked. Anyway, there I’d be, dragging my sorry ass into school for a few hours, planning to leave after lunch. On my way to dropping out, but quietly looking forward to Solometo’s class. I’d often get to his class early. One day, I saw him staring out the window before anyone came into the room. Looked peaceful, but real sad, like he was missing someone. The door had been ajar, so he didn’t know I was inside the room. Then some loudmouth girl came in behind me and he turned and saw us. His face changed in an instant. Like he crash-landed back on Earth. He waved and walked back over to his desk.
That day in class. We start the conversation about being right or being happy. I remember this stoner kid Ricky, he talked about his parents always arguing, sometimes throwing shit around the kitchen. “I never go into the kitchen.” Then he was talking about how he wished they knew how to be happy, but then he stood up and shouted, “But we’re fucking broke! How the fuck are we supposed to be happy?” Then he put a joint in his mouth and strolled out of the room.
Solometo shook his head, scratched his beard, and then casually walked up to the board and wrote, “Is money the root of all evil?”
We all dutifully copied that shit down. Then this straight-A student, Henry something, his dad was a doctor I think, he starts writing like mad in his notebook. Henry’s girlfriend, Josie, she starts crying. Solometo goes over and offers her a tissue from his tissue box, all Zen-like. She takes a tissue and then whispers to Henry, asks if she can talk about it. Henry barely speaks in class. He looks at her, not wanting to air his fucking laundry, but then she says, “No! I need to. He’s an a-hole!” and launches in.
Turns out Henry’s dad has a family on the side in some other city. Henry found his dad’s receipts. Hotel rooms. Amusement parks. Movies. And a note from his other lady. How she needs help for the rent this month. How the baby needs diapers. This guy carries on like nothing five days out of the week, and then twice a month, Thursdays and Fridays he “travels” to teach other doctors. Henry writes on the board. “My dad grew up poor. Now he has too much money. Too much security. Now he’s spending it on another woman and another kid. Fuck money.”
We thought that would be it. There was 10 minutes left in class. Then Solometo goes back to the board. He writes, “The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.” Isn’t that from a President? Maybe Roosevelt? How are we supposed to go to the cafeteria and eat macaroni and cheese now?
Solometo writes, "What if you grew up and became confident, but stayed curious instead of needing to be right all the damn time? Wouldn't we all be better off?"
Most of us just stared at the board, pondering the idea. Anyway, that was Solometo. Haven't thought of him in a while. Why is it so many of us old people lose our curiosity?