Crying in class

OK, I don’t actually do it. Well, not much, anyway.

The other day, in the course on death that I teach, I nearly did it twice. First time, referencing a video I’d given them on the course blog of chimps discovering a dead comrade. Second time, noting that the film “The Road” is based on McCarthy’s novel of the same title and that it was inspired by him becoming a father again in his 70s and his love for his little boy.

Just thinking of the chimps trying to figure out what had become of their friend, and of the father’s love for his child in a perilous struggle to survive, got my voice to crack twice. I made note of it to the class both times (“I’m practically in tears thinking of these other primates doing what we imagine only we do!”).

I wonder how bizarre they think I am.

I cannot remember if I was like this as a young person. I think I cried then, but not nearly so easily. My current state is such that all I have to do is get to a certain verse in a certain song, and tears will predictably come. A certainty, unless I exert great effort to stop it. Some melodies can do it. If I read certain passages of prose or poetry aloud, I know I will weep. Scenes in films. It drives my teen daughter crazy that this scene in AI gets me every single time.