August 20, 2018

Summit, NJ. February, 1977


Oh, my! Is that really what I looked like back when I was teaching English at Summit High School? If the photo seems a little out of focus, it’s probably because I was, too. The woman is my partner-in-crime Marilyn, another English teacher, with an arch sense of humor and an enviable gift for the spontaneous. (This was the shot for our department’s yearbook entry, taken in the school’s greenhouse. I just remember how hot and humid it was, and me in that sweater and that hair!) One lunchtime, I was telling Marilyn about a student of mine named Flavia, a tall and very shapely sexpot whom the boys all swooned over. Marilyn claimed not to know her. So the following period, when I had Flavia in class, I asked her if she’d deliver a note to Mrs. (Marilyn) W in the next classroom. The note, which I sealed in an envelope, read: “This is Flavia.” No reply necessary. Last I heard, Marilyn had run off with a student’s father to Costa Rica to grown cardamom. No word on Flavia’s trajectory.

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