Professor M and The Hair

Before we begin this story, let me introduce the principle characters. I, of course, am Narrator. Otherwise, it's really a Dialogue between Professor M [opinionated, fascinating middle-aged Bostonian linguist] and The Hair [student].

Various students in the class have caught my attention, for positive, negative or benign reasons. For instance, there are the language informants - Jamaica 1 and 2, Spain... I am the proud holder of the Mandarin Chinese seat (although Professor M didn't believe me at first, and made me prove it in front of the whole class one day). There is also Slightly Stupid Verbal Girl, who makes out-of-context comments to which the professor is unsure how to respond. Finally, there is our Hebrew informant, The Hair. He has beautiful, long, curly hair. Thus, he is The Hair.

Now to the exposition. On Good Friday (and Passover), our professor decided to discuss a holiday-appropriate topic - the language of religion. I think the main gist of his lecture was that language is a powerful tool with which we can create beings which may or may not exist. (I am unsure, because the lecture was peppered - and then there was the huge sneeze that constitutes this story - with interruptions from philosophical students). There are all kinds of theories about the spirit world, he said, and not all of them can be true, therefore some of them must simply be created by the human brain and by language. Our post-modernist students, however, could not accept such a statement.

"How do you define reality?"
"How do you know they (the inhabitants of the invisible world) don't all exist? If it's real to me, then it's as real as it needs to be."
"But," Professor M responds, "Surely you don't believe that there is such a thing as, say, flying invisible elephants... I hope we can all agree on the point that flying invisible elephants are beings that I have, just now, simply created by language."

Apparently we could not.

I must interrupt for a moment to explain a rule that Professor M has wisely instated in the class. It is a class of 150 students, so to avoid a single student's manipulating the conversation, and to make sure that many people get the chance to voice an opinion, he limits every student to two comments per lecture. The Hair had some vehement opinions to express about reality and the fact that shared experience is what creates reality, not empiricism, yada yada. He used up his comments.

The Drama begins. The Hair drew several curious eyes by once again raising his hand. We all knew he'd used up his comments. He knew it. However, it seemed to have become a matter of principle. Professor M, peeved, called him on this.

"You have used up your comments, I really don't-" M began.
"But how can you decide what is-"
"Please, you're disrupting the class, you've used up-"
"I didn't use them up, you kept interrupting me!"
"Stop. Okay? Be quiet."

But having begun, The Hair could not stop and kept talking over the professor. That was the last lexicon, as far as Professor M was concerned. Quite suddenly, he lost it. Eyes blazing, hand pointing imperiously, the learned professor began shouting at The Hair - in Hebrew! The class as a body was taken aback. Our eyes darted around the room, looking to each other to confirm what we'd heard. "Was that...? Did he really...?" Yes, it was, he did. Our eyes swivelled back to The Hair.

"Wow," he said. To this day I have no idea what Professor M said. All I caught was the word "shechem." It was enough to shut The Hair up, though. He began to pack his bag. The class sat in awkward silence, and the professor tried to find the thread of the lecture he had so unceremoniously dropped.

"Ahem... Ahem... so the invisible world.." Professor M began. Yet The Hair was not finished. The tension crackled. With drama, with flair even, he slung his bag over his back and threw a parting shot.

"Professor or not," he cried passionately, "You have no right to belittle these students!" And even as he opened his mouth, Professor M was letting loose another stream of scathing Hebrew. The Hair fled out the door, spilling books and papers from his half-closed book bag. No one dared move to pick them up. Silent, frozen, horrified, we held our collective breath as interminable seconds passed.

"Well," Professor M remarked, as composed as if he had not just been bawling out a student in a foreign language, "You mention religion in a classroom and you never know what issues are going to be raised..." He shook his head affectionately. "Now, the invisible world-" And he finished the rest of his hour-long lecture.