Passion

Her marriage is stifling, her husband an unfeeling clod. He is as insensitive to her needs as he is oblivious to her desires. In the months since they have been physically intimate, she feels herself growing ever more distant from the man whom she refers to as “that feckless boob.” The stressors on her marriage–economic, logistical and psychological–burden her and cannot be shared or lessened.

His marriage is even worse. His wife–the mother of his three children!–barely speaks to him. She is derisive rather than respectful. Even though he is an unfailing economic support, even though he has tried everything, even though he has offered to go to counseling, she doesn’t even make an effort any more. Their meals are eaten in silence. Their marital bed is desolate.

The wife in the first paragraph above and the husband in the second paragraph meet. Their relationship develops with speed matched only by intensity. They feel for one another what they haven’t felt for their spouses for years. Each of them knows in his/her heart that this time it will be different, that this time they have met their soul mate, that this time the passion will last.

Through a series of subterfuges, deceptions, prevarications and outright lies to their respective mates, they arrange a clandestine meeting in Aruba. On a deserted beach. Just the two of them. At sunset.

They sip a bottle of Chardonnay then–as if at an unspoken signal–collapse in one another’s arms. They make mad love on the beach as the waves crash over their reborn bodies. Then, as the credits roll…

… Except this is real life, not a movie. There is no tidy happily ever after.

The next morning their clothes are sopping and they are both shivering–from cold not from desire. There is sand everywhere. Everywhere.

And someone has to get the kids to school.

“Marry a good cook” we were told in previous generations. “Love fades.”

***

Quick fix educational interventions make as much sense as extra-marital affairs as ways to resolve existing long term issues. “We need to change text books; we need to change teachers; we need to change schools.” “The situation is unpleasant; the situation is untenable; the situation is unbearable.”

Staying in a broken marriage is as ill advised as staying in an impossible educational setting. But before jumping to change for the sake of change, it pays to consider whether the alternative is better. Your math teacher may indeed be terrible. He may write with one hand, erase with the other, and mumble into the board all the while. He may not be nurturing, supportive or a good communicator. He may be an insensitive lout: “Mr. Hart. Here is a dime. Call your mother and tell her that you will never be a mathematician.”

Fitzgerald said, “Living well is the best revenge.” Wouldn’t the best way to get back at your math teacher be to do well in the class? If your math teacher is as much of a monster as you say, wouldn’t he just hate it if you got an A? Rather than complaining, rather than switching classes, why not just do whatever it takes to get the job done? Go for extra help, hire a tutor, get a “study buddy,” sit in on the class when it’s offered during another period, do every problem on the homework twice, do every problem in the book three times. Do whatever it takes. Learn the material. “Hate the sin, not the sinner.” “Hate the teacher, not the course work.”

The best marriages long term are not necessarily the most passionate. A dear friend was asked why she took care of her sick husband for 19 years until his death. In addition she worked full time and raised three children. “He would have done the same for me,” she said.

Change for the sake of change is a poor strategy in a marriage and in a math class.

And besides, getting an A in your horrible math class doesn’t get seaweed on anything!