The following class we picked up with the Indians at Thanksgiving theme.  Marcel was most attentive.  Asking me to describe Indians, the class was eager to have first hand information from a real Indian. I had done a great deal of thinking and preparation for this class trying to articulate the most accurate symbolism I could find, yet I had little understanding of the European hatred of the Roma people within their own society.

Now, if I was to make a statement, I would find some other way to do it.  To this class, however I chose to make a presentation about my perception of the analogy between Native Americans and Gypsies.

They did not like it.  In fact, they disagreed and argued to the point where I actually had to change the subject.  We discussed Santa’s reindeer and elves where I pointedly ignored their off-color inferences to Eskimos and Elves in the north pole.  The class had gone from warm and friendly to icy.

Marcel let his eyelids droop once we got to grammar, but he wasn’t sleeping, just hiding.  I couldn’t believe the reaction and decided to stick to grammar for the remainder of the day in Mala Strana. I was surprised leaving for the day, as I let the heavy metal doors swing shut, to see Marcel waiting near the entrance to the Mala Strana Metro.

We walked to the metro nearby and stopped near the booths selling coffees to get out of the way of people coming and going around us.

“Miss Rose, it would not surprise me very much if your school, ” he ordered two coffees from the booth we were standing by and paid with some crowns, handing me one, “if they would have a request for your replacement, now.”

“Huhm,” I took the cup and we made our way to a small clearing to stand in the busy metro shop. I was taken aback with his honesty, “from the feeling I got,  I wouldn’t be either.”

I would miss his sleepy long lashes and French.  We walked.

“Thanks for the heads up.” I drained the last sip from the little cafe coffee near the Mala Starna Metro.

“You are a good teacher, I…” he took my hand and bent over it grazing my fingers with his lips. “We will miss you.”   He walked in the opposite direction toward the tramva.