Pardon my Youthful Excesses

Is anyone born with a philanthropist’s heart? It was foolish, I know, to test the limits of my own altruism, to wake up before dawn to instruct a small crowd of darling young ingrates online.

I teach in a style that is obviously untaught. It is occasionally enlightening, but definitely more pedantic than curious Youth deserves. It feels more a test of character than of the pedagogic skills that my students are not fully convinced that I possess…

And yet I have faithfully taught, week after interminable week, with three memorable exceptions.

The first culprit was a nocturnal visitor: not a bat, but a boy. As I watched him slumbering, I couldn’t bear to wake him to explain the jarring realities of my Saturday morning. No doubt philanthropism, as a derivative of altruism, is attractive in a potential mate, but isn’t also a normal Circadian rhythm?

The second was a late return from a debutantes’ ball. While explaining the periodic trends. I fell into a deep sleep, from which I was awakened by the impatient shouts of my students. That lesson was ended due to ‘technical difficulties’—a beautiful excuse in this age. Perhaps it was unjust to vilify the hitherto faultless teaching platform.

‘I’ll have a word with the developers,’ I vowed with deep insincerity.

The third was a birthday party at the end of the least-frequented S-Bahn line, in the bustling bar of a woodsy Bavarian village. Alas! Schnapps take their toll on susceptible young females, stealing away with their best falsehoods. Students and parents received the following terse explanation:

‘Class is canceled due to my advanced state of inebriation.  Please pardon my youthful excesses.’

Image result for dionysus statue

Bacchus, patron god of youthful excesses.