-
Perhaps It Was An Omen
Spiral notebook. ✓ New pencils. ✓ Planner. ✓ Pink rubber eraser. ✓ A folder with pockets. ✓ Highlighters. ✓ New outfit. ✓ Some things don’t change. I still have this checklist today. I was always excited at the prospect of starting a new school year. Ever since I read a book about a girl who walked to school on the sidewalk past the white picket fences in her neighborhood as the leaves were falling, I’ve always loved the thought of going back to school, seeing friends, and learning something new. Perhaps it was an omen of what life had in store for me. Strangely enough, I was one of those…
-
The 5:30 A.M. Wake-Up Call
* I won’t lie: I’ve sort of been dreading the beginning of this fall’s school year for one primary reason: The 5:30 a.m. wake-up call. Well, it’s not actually a call, because I don’t live in a hotel and ask for the wake-up from the front desk. It comes in the form of my iPhone alarm, and it always awakens me from the deepest sleep. And did I happen to mention that I’m not a morning person? At all? Nevertheless, with two kids in high school who both catch the bus at 6:30 a.m., I decided it was finally time for us all to be on the same schedule. If…
-
WHY I WRITE, Part I
George Orwell started it. His famous piece, “Why I Write,” has inspired writers of all walks of life to talk about whey they write. I’ve never done this before, and on this snowy day, I decided to take a little time to critically analyze why I write, the process, and why I enjoy doing it. It’s been something I’ve wanted to take the time to do, and after speaking about this very topic yesterday with one of my students, I decided to set out upon the task. * * * WHY I WRITE Part I—The Early Years: My Bad Poetry All I can tell you is that I remember writing…
-
An Open Letter to My High School: I Loved You and Miss You
Dear Severna Park High School (or as we lovingly called you, SPHS), I’m not sure if you remember me. I walked your halls many, many years ago now, when I was a lot lighter and more agile. I was a member of the cheerleading squad and captain my senior year. I took French class with Madame Hammerstrom and she called me by my chosen French name, Michelle. I had lots of friends and drove a white ’72 Chevy Malibu that didn’t quite suit me, but everyone got a kick out of it. I had a cute boyfriend and I never minded attending classes. Never. Do you remember me? Because I…
-
A Belated Thanks to Mrs. S—
Today I found a letter from 1982. It is from my high school creative writing teacher, Mrs. S—. I was extremely fond of her, though admittedly, a little intimidated as well. She was kind enough to write me a recommendation letter to go along with my college application forms and essays. I have retyped it with my own comments regarding this particular letter in parentheses and italicized them. The letter reads as follows: Gentleman: (Notice the formality of the salutation! I love it!) Miss Stephanie Parrillo (maiden name) has distinguished herself as a serious and conscientious student who performs excellently. (Perception is everything.) Academically, Stephanie earns above average grades. (My…
