Malinda's Table

 

I didn’t realize what a funk I was in at turning 75 until I returned to the college to teach this Fall and felt a lift as soon as I saw the students in my first class.  After teaching ten years online, in my nightgown or ratty jeans, having to get dressed up – for me long earrings and lots of beads (my friend Rick says, “slut never goes out of style”) – and eye shadow and lipstick (I recently read an obituary of the woman who owned L’Oeal cosmetics.  She said, “there is no such thing as an ugly woman, only a lazy one),  it feels good to get dressed up and leave the house to go do something I have loved for almost 50 years – teach psychology, the story of human behavior.  And quite a story it is, given that we, as people, haven’t come as far from the African savanna of our ape ancestors as we think. The students are a bright, inquisitive bunch.  They give me hope for the future, despite the horrors going on in the country with the new and awful administration.

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