Taming A Lion With A Keyboard
I really didn't know if she would take the course. But I had high hopes.
So let's skip the scenes where Mary exhibits great enthusiasm for this new opportunity. Now we see her signing in and paying the modest fee for eight two-hour classes of professional instruction. Though still not happy, she does allow that Bobbi Roberts, the lady who enrolled her, is cute.
The first day Bobbi queries each of the seven students, "Why are you here?" The first six have legitimate reasons. "I'm a teacher and need to know this." Or, "I have a computer at home and am struggling with a project." In other words, each wants to learn.
Mary's reason isn't as practical. "I'm here because I was forced by my husband."
The Marine in the class chuckles. "I didn't know that a woman could be forced to do anything. I just bought my wife a T-shirt that says, 'I'm the wife of a Marine. Don't confuse his position with my authority.' "
On Tuesday and Thursday mornings before class, Mary scurries through the house, tears brimming in her eyes, quietly lamenting. "I can't do this. I can't do this." I also hear my name muttered occasionally but can't quite discern what else she's saying. Probably thanking me.
She did mention the questionnaire she had to fill out. "Did the class meet your expectations?" Her answer was a bit cryptic: "I had no expectations, so you have far exceeded anything I ever dreamed of."
She'll tell you she hasn't learned anything, but I'm convinced otherwise.
Just a couple of nights ago I overheard a phone conversation with Mamie Baney. "No, Mrs. Baney! Don't do that! If you delete files off a floppy disk, you can't get them out of the recycle bin!"
An inveterate collector of written memories, unusual words, quotations and snatches of conversations, Mary has heretofore preserved her treasures electronically through a complex process of her own invention that involves typing out emails and sending them to herself. "Not very efficient," I helpfully critique while peering over her shoulder. But she just shrugs--and continues flicking the keys and sending emails.
But with her fears somewhat neutralized by training, she reported new progress last week, "I've been copying the text from some of my old emails and pasting it into new documents in Microsoft Word. Now I can consolidate and edit without all those emails!" Indeed.
But recalcitrant to the end, she still has just one terse reply when I ask what she's learned. "I still think Bobbie Roberts is cute."
From afar, fear roars like a lion. But up close, it purrs like a kitten.
Thanks, Bobbi Roberts--and Conway Adult Education Center--for taming one lion.
Copyright 2004 James McAlister
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