The first week of school went off without a hitch. The first twenty minutes of class were kind of nerve-wracking. It's been fifteen years since I last taught and back then I was much closer in age to the students. Now I felt like Grandpa Walton. I quickly discovered it's a fine line to walk, not appearing to be too old and irrelevant, but also not trying too hard to appear hip and cool. I could feel myself flop sweating as the students sat there stonefaced. I was beginning to wonder what exactly I'd gotten myself into, but then I cracked a joke that the kids actually laughed at and soon the mood lightened and we all loosened up.
The biggest adjustment was just to the technology. Everything is done digitally and online now. I sit at the back of the class at a computer where everything I do is projected digitally on the far wall. The kids all sit in front of computer monitors and I can't even see most of them. There's something strange about an art school with no art supplies and I have to admit I miss the smell of oil paint. But at least the kids don't have to lug around massive tool boxes of supplies like we had to.
The drive in from Bako was pretty effortless but I still questioned the wisdom of the commute. But then I met another instructor who drives in from Palm Springs, and while his mileage is less than me, with traffic his drive is about an hour longer, so I don't feel so bad anymore.
The drive home seemed easy too. Suspiciously easy. I left school at 8:30 and by 9 I was at the fringe of LA, in Castaic at the base of the Grapevine. I called the boyfriend to tell him I'd be home in about an hour, which is what it usually takes from that point. I hadn't gone more than about a mile when I spied a long string of red lights up ahead. I knew then my luck had run out. A semi had jack-knifed up ahead, and for the next hour I crawled up the mountain so slowly it didn't even register on the speedometer. Once past the crash site, it was smooth sailing the rest of the way.
I arrived back in Bako around 10:45 and it was an absolute ghost town. We almost never go out here at night and even when we do occasionally go out to dinner, you can practically see the city closing up shop around 9. Even knowing that, I was taken aback by just how abandoned the whole city looked. It was more than a little creepy to be driving down empty streets, past houses and apartments without so much as a nightlight on.
It is a bit of a mindfuck going from the wasteland of Bakersfield to the skyscraper canyons on Downtown LA, with all the hustle and bustle and... life. And then, sadly, back again.
