Kelley, sounds like you had a lovely time at St. Paul's. Thanks for sharing the article by Jana Brown on how your teaching and acceptance was seen by the students and the staff.
Sly
It was a great time, and a dream come true for me. Those of you who have been visiting the pub for a while know that St. Paul's is very special to me. Going back as a writer in residence was a chance for me to reconnect at many different levels.
I got there on a Saturday night after a Very Long Trip ( Seattle to Concord, NH is not the easiest journey, especially in February). My first event was scheduled for Sunday evening, so during the day Sunday I was on my own, which was great. I went to brunch in the school cafeteria; indulged myself with my adolescent breakfast of toast, peanut butter, bacon and tea; and watched the students come and go. Brought back many memories. This isn't a "glory days" thing, I wasn't exactly one of the hip kids in high school: it's more that for me, St. Paul's was an absolute wonderland. Do you know the story of the Little Match Girl? What if the wall had opened for her and someone had invited her in, given her a seat near the fire and a lovely plate of roast goose, maybe a squashy chocolate bun, had overlooked her bad clothes and complete lack of awareness of Sax Fifth Avenue? That's how St. Paul's felt to me. Maybe this sounds exaggerated, but I promise, it's not. For a kid like me, prep school was as unimaginable as flying to the moon, and when I understood what it was, what it could be, I wanted it more fiercely than I had ever wanted anything in my short life. Not all my memories of school are wonderful, but they are all...I don't know what word to use. Embedded, maybe. My time at St. Paul's is stamped into me like the maker's mark on silver.
On Sunday night I did a reading for faculty, staff and students: as a special (well, at least for me) gift, I read the first chapter of the new novel, which only Nicola had seen up to that point. Afterwards, a member of faculty hosted a dinner party. A couple of students invited me to join them and their friends in their dorm basement to talk and listen to music, but I couldn't because I was already committed to the dinner. I thoroughly enjoyed it—there were teachers at the table who were teaching when I was a student, and it was fantastic to connect with them as a peer—but I also wish so much that I could have spent that time with those students.
On Monday, I taught five classes. How did it go? Who knows? (grin). My head was spinning by the end of the day. It was odd to be on the teaching side of the equation, but I enjoyed it. I wish I'd had more time (my visit had to be shortened because of a school holiday), and I wish there had been more chance for me to connect with students in more personal ways. I think some students found a few things helpful, and some were probably bored rigid. I'd do a couple of things differently the next time around, but in general I didn't make a complete idiot of myself, and so was happy.
The students were amazing. I fell in love with all of them: attentive, eclectic, good haircuts and shoes, great manners; the entire spectrum of teenage body language (everything from I So Rock to I Am So Not Here); questioning minds that have been encouraged to think, to range, to take a few chances and make some leaps. It's a different school from the one I went to in many ways, but that part is exactly the same.
And it's so beautiful there. Still a wonderland. There's a part of me that will never get over that place.
 |
 |
