I have spent the last week teaching myself to type, sans pinky. So, here we go.
The other day, I was talking to my cousin and she said that they were learning the short story The Yellow Wallpaper in AP English. I commented that I loved that story; it was my favorite. I recall sitting on the couch outside my school library, reading it one sunny and quiet afternoon. I thought it a little peculiar that I recalled reading this in 11th or 12th grade, while she was reading it in AP. But then, my school was different than others; tougher. My C’s would have been B’s at the public school, at least. When I got to college, I was downright BORED. It’s not why I left, but it’s one of many reasons.
Anyway, I asked Sahar when she read it. She’s was an English major, so y’know…she had to have read it. Except she did not know what I was talking about. Ok…well, I’ll ask some friends from high school. Two, from my English level, recall no such thing. One from the Honors level, again, did not read it. Now, I alone of my friends took Creative Writing in high school, so it must’ve been that class, right?
At this point it’s been over two days that I have been thinking about this story that I THOUGHT was required reading for everybody. I figured I would go to the source. I messaged my high school English teacher, Ms. Maloney.
Everybody has those teachers that make an impact on you in one way or another, and Ms. Maloney is one of those. She took a chance on me. See, my grades when I was a Junior suffered terribly because I came down with a whopping case of diabetes. So, when it came time to chose Senior electives, I didn’t really qualify for the class she taught that I wanted to be in. Fortunately, that year I had somehow, amidst the chaos, also written and directed a one-act play, and I used this “extracurricular” in hopes she would see that Creative Writing and Drama (the electives I was after) were important to me. Anyway, at the end of the day, she gave me a shot. My grades never fully recovered, but I learned so much in that class and got to pursue my two passions, and I am forever grateful. So surely, I must’ve read it in her class.
She told me there was a teacher that taught it, but wasn’t sure which. By now it is day three and I am consumed. Did I check it out of the library? Did I read ahead in a textbook? Did I borrow from a friend? All likely, I suppose.
I suppose this mystery will never be solved.
So now, I sit in my office and stare at my wallpaper. It has always reminded me of this story, with all its golden twists and turns and blooms. I have no idea when I read this story. Just an image in my head of myself, sitting on a sofa in a long hallway with a stained-glass window at the end, wearing a white blouse and a gray skirt, and reading a story that captivated me. I don’t know who told me to read it. I’m certainly glad that they did,
I did it! I wrote a blog with nine fingers!! ::runs off to ice hand::