I listen to news and talk radio while driving, and this is so because I’ve very little appreciation for modern music.

I heard something rather interesting not all that long ago while driving the kids to school. It was a traffic report, and it sounded something like this: “It looks like a pretty serious rollover accident has slowed the eastbound lanes of I-94. It does appear that rescue crews are already on the scene. And good news, traffic is getting through…”

Notice the good news wasn’t that the accident victims were alive and unscathed, but that all the passersby shouldn’t expect to be too hindered by another’s tragedy.

Even if only for a very brief moment, and in a nearly invisible way, a narrative of societal priorities was broadcast to hundreds of thousands across the metro Detroit region.

“I’m sorry for your troubles, but get out of the way.”

It is the nature of Man to be a narcissist. Many might disagree, but to recognize, be concerned for, and serve the needs of one’s neighbor is by no means instinctual. It is learned. And so we need teachers.

It was C.S. Lewis who said, “The task of the modern educator is not to cut down jungles, but to irrigate deserts.” He said this because he believed as I do, that man is more so parched and barren of life and incapable of producing it without help. A teacher must be provided, one who will alter the landscape that it would be a worthy dwelling.

Unfortunately, not all teachers are up to such a challenge, and I’m not so sure that when one is standing at the edge of a thirsty whisky wilderness, the Teacher’s Highland Cream is the one to hire. But it is very close.

I twisted the cap on this popular bottom shelf edition and was straightway enticed by its malty perfume. Even in the glass, the malt is equally commanding, distracting from any other perceivable aspect of the whisky. There is, however, an iota of caramel that makes it through.

The palate is good, giving one over to a suspicion of fresh Arabica beans and almond milk, but it also lets in a simmered brine that coats the mouth and all but ruins the experience.

As the longer finish fades, the malt returns, almost as if to apologize for the sour note and then proceed to work to convince that it deserves one more shot at meeting the need.

Lamentably, I must hire another to the fulltime position and only call upon the Teacher’s Highland Cream when I am in need of a substitute.