"Time flies when you're having fun"

Time remains one of the strangest concepts to me. During high school I was recruited to take a class called Clockwise. It was taught by Peter Ferry, who was also my coach on Forensics (otherwise known as Speech Team). I was practicing a reading of T.S. Eliot's "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock," a poem I love and constantly revisit. During the first class, which met two days per week, with the three other days reserved for writing, researching and thinking, Mr. Ferry asked me to join in on the lesson and give my reading of the poem, then asked me to stay in the class. I dropped my Law class immediately to make room in my schedule.

The class' main objective was seemingly to explore. So, the 15 of us who were asked and recommended for the class, got together to discuss topics of philosophy and religion and time and ethics and literature and all the things that education should be, but too often isn't. Even though I was asked to be in the class, I did feel a bit like an outsider, joining by happenstance. Sort of a right moment, right time, instance. Since then I don't think I've had a right moment, right time, instance.

But that semester just before high school commencement was my most enjoyed, tried and interesting. And it flew. And I wish I could recapture the essence of those lessons. It flew.

"And indeed there will be time
For the yellow smoke that slides along the street,
Rubbing its back upon the window-panes;
There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;
There will be time to murder and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate;                               
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions
And for a hundred visions and revisions
Before the taking of a toast and tea."

-T.S. Eliot "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock"