Provocative . When I read the word on my graded paper it was as if I was reading it for the first time in my life. I looked at the grade next to it, then glanced back at the word. "Formidable". It didn't compute. I sounded it out in my head, like a phonics exercise, and thought about my personal definitions of the word. Unapproachable. Without reproach. My brain rejected both. Professor McCleod was well known for two things: a zealots knowledge of the Antebellum era, and hard grading. The young woman sitting next to me glanced at my paper (her favorite pastime) and whispered "no way...did you do him?" I let my glare answer for me. And then I had to stifle a laugh because I suddenly had a mental image of McCleod looking at me in a post-coital daze and whispering: "formidable". . "Provocative." There, in the body of the e-mailed feedback. When I read the word it immediately reminded me of McCleod. My mind turns the word over and over, and wants to know about the state of mind of the person who wrote it. What were they thinking? I often use the word myself, though I think there is a slight difference in my concept of "provocative" and the typical usage. Usually, it refers to something we wish to know more about. Things that are hidden beneath the surface, behind the mask or under the bed. Things that we're not quite sure we will like once we come face-to-face with them, but feel inclined to go down that dark alley regardless. . I think I would prefer not to wipe the fog off the glass, not to look behind the curtain. I like...no, love...the idea of provocative, I just don't feel terribly provoked by it. I want things to remain provocative for as long as humanly possible. . Perhaps that is why I am so often frustrated by this domesticity and familiarity...it often seems as though there is nothing left to discover, nothing unpredictable, nothing "provocative." . Perhaps that is why a simple word in the body of an e-mail can provoke me so... . .

SMQ1996