A friend visited me one day and brought with him a brown rectangular rock, as a gift. It was not shiny, but still attractive as rocks go. I put it on my table. Students, who come to visit each evening after school, asked me what it was. Initially, I told them, “It’s a rock.” But that got old quick. So one day I told a student that this rock is not a rock at all. It is, in fact, a phone.
These days, most of my students know that the rock is a rock phone. We pretend it rings and pick it up and have fun conversations with imaginary friends. When I’m alone, and sure no one is near the door, I pick it up myself and have fake chats with people from home. But they’re brief. I promise, they’re brief, and I don’t actually hear these people's voices or anything thing like that.
Likhapa, a 10th grade girl, came over last night and asked what that brown rectangular rock on my table is. I just let the other visiting students answer: “It’s a phone. It’s not a rock.”
“It’s a rock,” she said sternly.
“Don’t call my phone a rock,” I pretended to be hurt.
“Call someone,” Likhapa said.
I picked it up, held it in front, looked into the air and mumbled, “Who should I call? Oh, I know.” Then proceeded to dial. Ring, ring, ring.
“Drew. What up? This is Greg,” I spoke into my rock phone. I gave Drew time to respond. He said something about how he is fine and on his way to go surfing.
“Oh. Where are you gonna surf?” I pictured Drew driving parallel to the coast in La Jolla, fog on the windshield, sweatshirt hood up. I whispered to Likhapa, “It’s the morning in America.” Then I continued with Drew, “Is the tide high?” Drew said yes.
“Listen, one of my students wants to say hello.” I handed the rock phone to Likhapa. She put it to her ear, I’ll give her that much, but caught herself quickly, handed it back and said confidently, “There’s no one.”
“Yeah, she knows English,” I then explained to Drew. “I don’t know. She knows English. Maybe she was nervous. All right, I’ll let you surf . . . Yeah, talk to you later . . . OK, snitch, see ya.” And we hung up.
The other students just kept reading their magazines, listening to music, not skipping a beat. Likhapa gave us a “pshhht.” But she’ll be using the rock phone herself by next week, I guarantee.