I had a ninth grade English teacher, Mr. Hicks, who put us in groups and gave us impossible poems to interpret. When I say “impossible,” I mean poems which had Greek in them — a little bit of Greek and — languages we couldn’t even — we couldn’t even read the alphabet. “Just tell me what it means. Tell me what you think it means.” And after a couple of class periods when we decided this is so impossible we might as well just make a wild guess, it turned out our guesses weren’t so wild after all. So he taught us to trust what your gut reaction was to something. Even if you didn’t understand every word, to work out the context.