Gandhi's Guide to Getting By

chapter nine

Benton Valby wants to hire me full time. There is an "upsurge in requests for your class", is how Ms. Green, head of human resources, puts it. "Just incredible," she says as she leads me to the large boardroom where I will now be teaching, "how eager all our young emplyees are to broaden their language horizons. It's like all of a sudden, everyone wants to speak flawless English. Of course, it helps that you're obviously very good at what you do. Peter and Nathalie can't stop talking about you. Did you know Nathalie now shows up at lunch to practice table conversation with Peter?"

Oh oh, this can't be good.

Ms. Green tells me to "wipe the worried look off my face". As for starting full-time, I'm to get back to them as soon as possible. "Here we are," she says, opening the door.

My new class consists of old students Peter and Nathalie, and new students Shahab, Anwar, Nikolai, Rinaldo, Yesul, Giovanna, Anisha, and Aisha.

"So," I begin as soon as Ms. Green closes the door behind her. "Maybe we can take turns and introduce ourselves. Who wants to go first?"

Rinaldo raises his hand. To my surprise, he hands me a picture of himself. The picture is professionally taken judging by the clarity of water, sky, and Rinaldo's suspiciously glossy perfection. Instead of the button down shirt and beige chinos he now wears, he is wearing a tight white t-shirt and a loose pair of white cropped cotton pants. He is running barefoot 'a-la-Chariots-of-Fire' style along a beach and his present-day bald head is an enviable windswept mop of curls.

"You?" I ask, pointing to his head in the picture. "Did you shave your head?" I don't add, Did you gain ten pounds since this picture was taken?

He laughs. "No, no, the men in my family, they go bald by age of thirty. It's my profile pictue so I photoshop. Si? So now I tell you about me. I am six four--"

Six four? Is this guy crazy? His feet barely touch the floor which means he's probably shorter than my five four. Also, what does his height and his hair have to do with this class?

"Actually," he now says, "I write it all down in back of picture." He motions that I should turn the picture around. I do. "Maybe you should read what I write down. It's in English."

"Then maybe you should read it so you can practice."

Rinaldo takes back his picture and clears his throat. "Name: Rinaldo Fiore, known by ladies as Signore Grande." Here he pauses and straightens out his shoulders. "Height: 6'4, for this you can give or take some inches. Hair: Silky brown, like my eyes. Likes: Long walks on beaches, sitting not by myself next to fire, vino, candles, romantic dinners, opera." He slides the picture back to me. "You like?" he says.

I'm about to tell Rinaldo that maybe he's misunderstood what this class is about, but maybe it's me who's misunderstood because every one of my students, I now notice, has brought a picture of themselves.

"Me too I write I love opera," Shahab says.

"Me too," Aisha says. "What you think, Miss Emma Teacher, you think the men like for women to like opera? Also, I too photoshop my picture, make my eyes a little bigger."

"So let me get this straight," I say in an attempt to figure this out, "You all have a picture of yourselves which may, or may not be enhanced, and you've all written a self-description. Is that right?"

"What means enhanced?" Giovanna asks.

Rinaldo points to his picture.

"Ahh," Giovanna says. "Si, that's what we've done."

"Umm, so maybe you can each read what you've written and see if there's anything you want to add while I make a quick phone call," I now say. I smile to show them I'm in control. I tell myself not to panic. I tell myself I'm not losing my mind. It is not you who is losing their mind, my inner voice repeats, it is your students who have lost theirs. The thought that I am sane and my students crazy fails to comfort me. Besides, I'm still not getting what's going on. I take out my phone and quickly text Ax. I give her a run down of what's just happened. If anyone can figure people out quickly, it's Ax.