Reply #2: You're not exaggerating. These things do happen as you say.

[patrice]

One of my students returned to visit me, after a year away at college, with huge rope-like scars across his wrists. I used to hear from him every year or so after that; he'd call from somewhere in the U.S. with wilder and wilder stories about his search for himself. Then after fewer and fewer calls, silence . . . . I believe he is dead now.

He was Editor on the highschool newspaper I ran. Bright! Funny!! Charming. Handsome. Very popular with the girls. But his parents, his dad especially, were un-happy with him and the school had no idea what to make of him, especially when he made a huge public play for the son of the football coach.

I didn't know what to do for him either, but I did laugh with him and listened to him. Brent was my friend.

.........................

I hate how one generation, because it is in a power position, imposes itself on the next generation, choking the life out of what is new or different, making the young proove to "us" that our sacrifices were not in vane by requiring that they be the same as us, until we have nothing left but zombies.

There is a difference between providing a nourishing structure and oppression.