The King Shizznastic
Dearest Ryan,
I thought you should know that I won't be paying to much attention in your class this year- but it's not your fault. I hope you'll forgive me for this transgression, but it's not really my fault either you see. Well, I'll just tell you straight up, so here it goes, no more delays. Here it comes, riiiiiight... now! No, now! Well, it's this kid Noah, Noah Berman, not to emulate 007 too much.
He's just so damn interesting, interesting and mysterious. Fortunately I have this third person letter for you, about him.
Noah emerged from the womb on October 2, 1990. As an infant he was overweight, but not obese, born at 9 lbs. 7 oz. Living in Golden Valley his younger years were those of a typical suburban, American child. He enjoyed toy cars, basketball, and imagination games. His life proceeded, generally uneventful, through a move to Minnetonka at age 5 and through his elementary school experience at a Jewish Day School. Upon further prompting into this seemingly normal post-natal to pre-teen experience, one may find a secret, not so deep, and not so dark. Noah thought that Beenie Babies (tm) were pretty cool. However, while his grandma visiting from Philadelphia - the rest of his extended family is from the East Coast - thought he was simply playing with them he had truly forced them to engage in a battle-royale of death and carnage. The armadillo Beenie Baby (tm) won quite often.
As most children are in the 7th grade Noah was exceedingly awkward, a true social invalid. He had just begun to enjoy music and reading when his world was turbulently turned topsy-turvy. His mother, a Scientist-slave at the University of Minnesota, (before our subject's birth she almost chose the University of Tennessee instead) had her sabbatical year. Instead of simply taking a year off to focus on her awkward teen and uncertain high school graduate children, she decided to take up a temporary fellowship at the Weitzman Institute in Rehovot, Israel. Naturally, she decided to bring her younger son and fortunately for her her eldest was already taking a year off there.
In Israel Noah found a bit of himself, dropped some of his inhibitions, and learned to speak Hebrew well enough to pass his French class even though he didn't know any French and the teacher didn't know any English. This period of his life, if only from January to May, taught Noah independence, which in Israel means staying out late and not letting your parents know where you are, but it's okay, despite the stereotype of the Jewish mother, mother's in the Jewish country don't seem to worry. The impact of his half year abroad was profound and Noah returned feeling, acting, and looking very differently.
After returning from his journeys and jumping back into his normal cycle Noah continued to grow through junior high and ninth and tenth grade at an average pace physically, standing at about 5'11" 155 lbs. He was in the "smart kid classes" for most of his life and continued this path, and learned to play the mandolin, guitar, and bass.
Now Noah sits in his classes and wonders about quirky things. The smallest abnormal inflection from the teacher may trigger a cranial typhoon for him, and no matter the results of this cognitive tsunami, he can't help but laugh. Looking past the long hair and blue eyes he has grown to love Israel and is throughly involved in Young Judaea, a Zionist youth movement. He obsesses with music. You'll usually find him talking, rapping, or singing to himself.
He aspires to one day teach people, maybe children, maybe conventionally, he hasn't thought that far through it. While he hates people who talk even when they don't know what they're talking about and the people who put them in the situation to do so, he would love to educate them. He wants his own family. Eventually. He wants to follow his own path, to stray from the yellow brick road of high school, college, graduate degree, office job, wife and two kids, vacation, retirement, grandchildren, funeral. Maybe he'd rather go to Bangladesh or Ghana, he often says to himself, wondering why the big omnipotent, omnipresent, ominous "they" never considered that.
Like all humans, the subject of this stretched out letter is human. He is an individual, although nothing about him is fully unique and his. He is complicated, but often falls into the same patterns. He wants to be noticed, but does not want to be embarrassed. He laughs when he shouldn't, smiles when he should cry, often feels out of place and wonders about the meaning of life. Noah, if you dig past the letters and pronunciation, N-O-A-H, is, like most, is the fountain from which all errs flow, the epitome of the human story and ethos. He is the most significant thing to himself, yet in perspective, the smallest speck in the universe...
I thought you should know that I won't be paying to much attention in your class this year- but it's not your fault. I hope you'll forgive me for this transgression, but it's not really my fault either you see. Well, I'll just tell you straight up, so here it goes, no more delays. Here it comes, riiiiiight... now! No, now! Well, it's this kid Noah, Noah Berman, not to emulate 007 too much.
He's just so damn interesting, interesting and mysterious. Fortunately I have this third person letter for you, about him.
Noah emerged from the womb on October 2, 1990. As an infant he was overweight, but not obese, born at 9 lbs. 7 oz. Living in Golden Valley his younger years were those of a typical suburban, American child. He enjoyed toy cars, basketball, and imagination games. His life proceeded, generally uneventful, through a move to Minnetonka at age 5 and through his elementary school experience at a Jewish Day School. Upon further prompting into this seemingly normal post-natal to pre-teen experience, one may find a secret, not so deep, and not so dark. Noah thought that Beenie Babies (tm) were pretty cool. However, while his grandma visiting from Philadelphia - the rest of his extended family is from the East Coast - thought he was simply playing with them he had truly forced them to engage in a battle-royale of death and carnage. The armadillo Beenie Baby (tm) won quite often.
As most children are in the 7th grade Noah was exceedingly awkward, a true social invalid. He had just begun to enjoy music and reading when his world was turbulently turned topsy-turvy. His mother, a Scientist-slave at the University of Minnesota, (before our subject's birth she almost chose the University of Tennessee instead) had her sabbatical year. Instead of simply taking a year off to focus on her awkward teen and uncertain high school graduate children, she decided to take up a temporary fellowship at the Weitzman Institute in Rehovot, Israel. Naturally, she decided to bring her younger son and fortunately for her her eldest was already taking a year off there.
In Israel Noah found a bit of himself, dropped some of his inhibitions, and learned to speak Hebrew well enough to pass his French class even though he didn't know any French and the teacher didn't know any English. This period of his life, if only from January to May, taught Noah independence, which in Israel means staying out late and not letting your parents know where you are, but it's okay, despite the stereotype of the Jewish mother, mother's in the Jewish country don't seem to worry. The impact of his half year abroad was profound and Noah returned feeling, acting, and looking very differently.
After returning from his journeys and jumping back into his normal cycle Noah continued to grow through junior high and ninth and tenth grade at an average pace physically, standing at about 5'11" 155 lbs. He was in the "smart kid classes" for most of his life and continued this path, and learned to play the mandolin, guitar, and bass.
Now Noah sits in his classes and wonders about quirky things. The smallest abnormal inflection from the teacher may trigger a cranial typhoon for him, and no matter the results of this cognitive tsunami, he can't help but laugh. Looking past the long hair and blue eyes he has grown to love Israel and is throughly involved in Young Judaea, a Zionist youth movement. He obsesses with music. You'll usually find him talking, rapping, or singing to himself.
He aspires to one day teach people, maybe children, maybe conventionally, he hasn't thought that far through it. While he hates people who talk even when they don't know what they're talking about and the people who put them in the situation to do so, he would love to educate them. He wants his own family. Eventually. He wants to follow his own path, to stray from the yellow brick road of high school, college, graduate degree, office job, wife and two kids, vacation, retirement, grandchildren, funeral. Maybe he'd rather go to Bangladesh or Ghana, he often says to himself, wondering why the big omnipotent, omnipresent, ominous "they" never considered that.
Like all humans, the subject of this stretched out letter is human. He is an individual, although nothing about him is fully unique and his. He is complicated, but often falls into the same patterns. He wants to be noticed, but does not want to be embarrassed. He laughs when he shouldn't, smiles when he should cry, often feels out of place and wonders about the meaning of life. Noah, if you dig past the letters and pronunciation, N-O-A-H, is, like most, is the fountain from which all errs flow, the epitome of the human story and ethos. He is the most significant thing to himself, yet in perspective, the smallest speck in the universe...
posted by Noah Tal Berman at
6:56 AM
1 Comments:
Noah,
I'm always drawn to Noahs, for no other reason than I was nearly named Noah. It was second to Ryan and just above Rory. A rather tenuous connection, I know, but I force them where I can.
I love your closing sentence. Not for its insight, but your internalization of its reality. It's how, I believe, most view the world, yet remains understated for its seemingly selfish undertones. (I will refrain from launching into my human need theory here, and simply say your thoughts parallel a tenet of my theory.)
Your writing style is engaging from my perspective. It's obvious that you're thoughtful in what you're writing, which is essentially what I desire from all my students. And I know you're not necessarily doing it for me, but don't believe your teachers don't appreciate it. I do. And it provides me better insight into who you truly are.
It's my pleasure to have you in class this term. You seemed to be in my office nearly daily last year, so I've already accustomed myself to your presence, but your presence in a more intimate way is even cooler. Although after having read your first post, my most subtle inflection may catalyze my brain into a maelstrom of its own.
Hogan
Post a Comment
Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]
<< Home