In our institutions today, a lot of immortalities has been going on even with the knowledge of some of the teachers in the school.
One very intelligent boy came to me from 6th-8th grades along with three other boys. If he finished his work early, he’d ask if he could use the last 15 minutes to write a letter. I said yes for a reason.
He wrote his father begging him to see him. As many times as he wrote, his father never responded to the letter or came to see him. It was one of the saddest parts about being a teacher.
Watching parents let their children down so horribly, so disgustingly. and so unnecessarily. He was such an interesting boy, too. He was an amateur herpetologist.
He kept snakes in his room. His mother was great and a lot braver than I was. I still wonder about him. He graduated and left the school. I never heard from him or about him after that.


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What are snakes doing in his room? Or is it kind of idiom?