He says the problem with teachers is, "What will a kid learn from someone who chose to become a teacher?" He reminds the other dinner guests that it's true what they say about teachers:Those who can, do; those who can't, teach. I decide to _ instead of biting his and stop myself from reminding the other dinner guests that it's also true what they say about lawyers-that they make money from the misfortune of others. "I mean, you're a teacher, Taylor," he says to me." Be honest. What do you make?" I wish he hadn't asked me to be honest, because now I have to teach him a lesson. You want to know what I make? I make kids work harder than they ever thought they could. I can make a C+feel like a great achievement and an A-feel like a failure. How dare you waste my time with anything less than your very best? I make parents tremble in fear when I call them: I hope I haven't called at a bad time. I just wanted to talk to you about something Billy said today. Billy said, "Leave the kid alone. I still cry sometimes, don't you?" And it was the bravest act I have ever seen. I make parents see their children for who they are and what they can be. You want to know what I make? I make kids wonder. I make them question. I make them criticise. I make them think. I make them apologise and mean it. I make them write, write, write. And then I make them read. I teach them to solve math problems that they once thought impossible. I make them understand that if you have brains then you follow your heart and if someone ever tries to judge you by what you make, you teach them a lesson. Let me make this simple for you, so you know what I say is true: I make a great difference! What about you? What do we know about the man that the author is speaking to?
He dislikes lawyers. He is actually a lawyer. He is respectful to teachers. He is in the author's home.