Math, physics, comp sci. The only easy class was "The American Century." Open book midterm and final, so he wasn't going to do any of the reading all semester.
“It’s a huge waste of time, Dad,” he laughed when I objected. “I’m not learning a damn thing in the class.”
“Well, then you’re just going to have to take that class over again,” I snapped at him.
“What are you talking about?” he yelped.
“You know why, Gabe,” I said. “Those who don’t learn from history are condemned to repeat it.”
I poked my head in his room, and he was blathering about how he wanted to quit school and be a truck driver.
"I'm gonna get one of those big beautiful Peterbuilts, with all the running lights everywhere. Or maybe a Mack with an extended cab..."
"Better brew him a pot of coffee," I told his mother. "The final is in a half hour, and he's only semi-conscious."
He was finally doing the reading for his history class. "Did you know that Bin Laden was planning to blow up monuments in other American cities?"
"I bet St. Louis was next on his list," I nodded.
"How'd you know that, Dad?" he asked in surprise.
"Well, he was our arch-enemy."
They Kotterized it (look it up kids).
"Stairs don't talk!"
