At the Foot of the Page
Lionel Abel
I.
MY PUPIL
WHAT
DO YOU
WANT of him?" cried my wife. "Why do you
bother him? He doesn't want to listen to you. He probably doesn't
like you. Just let him alone."
"He is interested in literature. So I take it for granted he is
interested in what
I
have to say."
"Don't take it for granted," said my wife. "He doesn't,want
to listen to you. He may be interested in literature but not in your
literature.
I
can see by the look on his face that he doesn't like
you.
"
"We have had some very splendid conversations," I argued,
"and once he said something too. So you must be wrong about
him. He may not know much about literature but he has a genuine
desire to learn. I think of him as a pupil."
My wife became exasperated as women will when you meet
their unreasonableness with objective arguments. "A pupil!" she
shouted, "but he doesn't pay attention! I tell you that you make
him nervous. He probably hates you. Do you know why you think
he's your pupil? Shall I tell you why? Because you haven't any
pupils. Because you're a teacher now only in your own mind. Do
you know how long it is since you had a job in the University?
Shall I remind you?"
"Wife," I said with dignity, "let me hear your complaints in
order and I shall try to understand them. But don't pretend to
criticise my relations with my friend Smertenko when what you
are really irritated by is something of an altogether different order
-the fact that, as a result of the depression, I haven't been able
to get a new appointment."
"A different order!" she shouted.
"If
you had half as much
sense as your pupil, Smertenko, you would understand what I am
complaining about. For God's sake, get a job and don't lecture to
me about things in which I take no interest and haven't paid ten
dollars a credit to understand. And don't make life miserable for
281
