The Sordid Saga of a Student and a Statue
Two teachers lost in love. One horny high schooler. And a priceless collection of ancient art. What could possibly go wrong?
The sublime beauty of teaching high school in New York City is that no matter how impoverished your neighborhood, the grandest cultural institutions are merely a train ride away. On any given day, I can escort my rapturous children to ponder Fellini at Film Forum, inhale the scent of cherry blossoms at the Brooklyn Botanic Garden, catch a diminutive diva belting out Gypsy on Broadway or a not-so-diminutive diva aria-ing La Boheme at The Metropolitan Opera, and end the outing lolling on Strawberry Fields, nibbling on cupcakes from Magnolia Bakery and reflecting on all we have learned.
If I have the opportunity to so enhance the cultural life of my precious cherubs, why in heaven would I deprive them of this experience?
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