Poor Mrs. Ward tried so hard to bestow in me the importance of a good solid education and the pitfalls of teenage rebellion. My English teacher for more than one year, spent hours agonizing over my choices and seemingly hopeless fate. She resorted to Ed psych books and colleagues to try to find ways to motivate me into plugging in to mass education. I on the other hand rejected her kind and desperate attempts to reach me. I spent most of my time skipping her class to smoke cigarettes in the parking lot with boys who shared my disdain for all things “not fun.” In 10th grade she assigned the Good Earth. I never even bothered checking the book out. How could the story of a 19th century Chinese farmer help me get a boyfriend, get off of restriction, or earn the money to buy the Guess jeans I needed? These were the only things that mattered to me at 15. But tonight, almost 25 years later I finally finished this book. It wasn’t that good or interesting and I wouldn’t recommend it to anyone, but I read it. In some small way I felt like I owed it to that poor old English teacher so many years ago that may never realize that her words weren’t completely lost on me.
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