There’s a way you look at things, he said. Either right or wrong, he told him. You. You tend to choose the wrong. Not sure if you intend to, or not, but you do, he popped open a beer and offered the boy one.

The boy took the beer can from his teacher and began drinking. What do you mean by wrong? The student asked.

You need to stick with something. The professor raised his voice, looked at him, and then around his office. Joyce, Dostoyevsky, Hemingway, Proust, Faulkner, all these books have taught me something different. A lesson in each one, he said. A way about doing things. Accomplishing tasks in life, he drank from his can of Old Style. Why come to college? He asked the boy.

Not sure, the student responded. Seemed like the thing to do.

College isn’t for everyone. He swiveled in his chair. Go travel. Take off for Europe. Make discoveries, he proclaimed.

I’m broke.

Perfect, the professor said. Suffer a little. It’ll do you good. Cause English. Isn’t doing you any good.

So just quit school?

Yes. Take the money and run. Leave at once. What do you have to lose?

What do I tell my parents?

Tell them I said so. You want to learn? Get mixed up in the world, then find peace when you’re done.

Who said that?

I did.