I sat at the window table of the Sandbar Lounge<\/p>\n\n\n\n
on a gray afternoon in February<\/p>\n\n\n\n
reading essays and stories from my students.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Second semester three weeks old.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Amanda tending bar,<\/p>\n\n\n\n
ponytail flying,<\/p>\n\n\n\n
ready to flagellate a chest,<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Popeye arms,<\/p>\n\n\n\n
confirmed rumors of her punching out<\/p>\n\n\n\n
dipshit fishermen.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The Great Recession was wreaking destruction in Newport.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Evicted families tented in campgrounds, crowding cheap motel rooms.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Hundreds lined up at Walmart to apply for one job.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Students inhabiting my classroom before dawn,<\/p>\n\n\n\n
for heat, electricity, running water, toilets, Internet<\/p>\n\n\n\n
and hot coffee, hot chocolate, donuts, fruit, energy bars and bagels I served every morning.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I spent $7200 that year,<\/p>\n\n\n\n
worth every penny.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Amanda came up to my table, a first.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
We’d always conversed at the bar.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I had a tiny crush on her, but did nothing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My first rule of Oregon tavern life: don’t touch the bartenders.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She knew I was a teacher at the high school.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She said her son, a fifth year senior recently moved in after many years with the father,<\/p>\n\n\n\n
was enrolled in my creative writing class.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
His only class.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He needed one credit to graduate.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She said his name.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Oh yes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Her son looked like a young Bozo the clown without makeup, wearing glasses.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Sweet disposition, loner, didn’t say a word,<\/p>\n\n\n\n
but always paying attention.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Never missed class,<\/p>\n\n\n\n
never turned anything in.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Amanda asked me to please<\/em> pass him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The deal: free drinks for the semester and I could fuck her once a week. She had a little crush on me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Certainly the second most beguiling offer of my teaching career.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I refused.<\/p>\n\n\n\n A weekly parent\/teacher conference ensued at the Sandbar.<\/p>\n\n\n\n We plotted how to motivate him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Carrot and stick.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Something worked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n He turned in one piece,<\/p>\n\n\n\n a riff from a fantasy novel he wanted to write.<\/p>\n\n\n\n It was damn good.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The riff made it into the literary review.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I brought the book into the Sandbar, handed it to Amanda with her son’s piece bookmarked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n She opened and cried.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I passed with him a D+.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Amanda and I never got together.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I wonder if the diploma made any difference.<\/p>\n\n\n\n They often do and don’t.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I bet he finished the novel.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" I sat at the window table of the Sandbar Lounge on a gray afternoon in February reading essays and stories from my students. Second semester three weeks old. Amanda tending bar, ponytail flying, ready to flagellate a chest, Popeye arms, confirmed rumors of her punching out dipshit fishermen. The Great Recession was wreaking destruction in […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":10074,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[5,42],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-10073","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-meditations","category-poetry","has-post-title","has-post-date","has-post-category","has-post-tag","has-post-comment","has-post-author",""],"builder_content":"","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/10073","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=10073"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/10073\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":10075,"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/10073\/revisions\/10075"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/10074"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=10073"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=10073"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=10073"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}