思想卡（3）

    the ressed. the course met every day for one hour. dr. simon ht by asking questions, raising issues that none of my teachers had ever raised before. he challenged us to think and to think deeply. social issues, political issues, personal issues all rist for the mill in this class. it  social studies and it ing. the teachers i had in high school taught social studies—history, geography, economics and so on, as rote subjects, lists of facts and names and dates to be memorized and returned to paper on exams. rarely had anyone asked us to think.

    at first, i thought he oing to propagandize us for or against something, but not professor simon. instead, he simply asked us to think, explore, research, question and then come up  delightful, refreshing and inviting about his teaching, but since i had rarely experienced this style, i had no“coping strategies” to help me deal  to a formula and memorize, memorize, memorize!this class  different. i couldn’t use these time-athers no moss.”again, not trusting him, i covered myself ainst unoing on here? i couldn’t remember a teacher caring personally about me since elementary school.  to ht i’d just had  a discussion, near the door. looking up at me, he reached out for the card and i handed it to him and took my seat.

    the moment i reached my seat, i felt overave him that card!oh, no!i didn’t mean to let that out. noer, about my dad, about my life! i don’t remember anything about the rest of that class session. all i could think about  that night, filled  arrived and i reluctantly got ready for school. ot to the class, i an and dr. simon began giving back the thought cards. he put mine on the desk face doing out in the student union cafeteria talking  men about the problems i had “because of my parents”. and they, too, shared the same sort of material ed anyone to take respossibility for himself. no,  game  etting a student-aid job, blame dad. i constantly complained about my folks and all the guys nodded sagely. these folks  the tuition  bunch of fools,  question punctured that balloon. it got right to the heart of the issue: oing to the student union that day and ht home, strangely depressed, chastened. all evening i thought about it and about something my mother had said: “the millionaire calls himself a ‘self-made man,’ but if he gets arrested, he blames his abusive7 parents. ”</p>

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