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The first time the mushroom class was given at the New
School, many people signed up for it. The registrar
was alarmed, telephoned me and asked, “Where shall we
draw the line?” I said if more than forty people were
involved it might be difficult. Something like that
number registered for the course, but when the field
trips actually took place, there were never more than
twenty people in the woods. Sometimes attendance
dropped to a mere dozen. I couldn’t figure out what
was happening. I forget who it was, but one day in the
woods one of the lady students confessed that when she
signed up for the course it was not with the intention
of tramping through the woods near New York City,
fungi or no fungi. She was interested in going to
Europe. Some airplane company had advertised
inexpensive roundtrip fares purchasable only by
adults enrolled in the New School. People had studied
the catalogue as though it were a menu, looking for
the cheapest course regardless of what was being
taught. The lady who told me this had had a change of
mind, or her particular flight had been postponed, I
don’t remember which. One way or another, she lost
interest in Europe. Another, noticing fungi in
Bavarian and Milanese markets, sent post cards.
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