(no subject)
So this week, St. Louis held this "Literature Lives" jag in which students dressed as characters or authors from various literary selections. My AP class was confined to the poems within our book, whose characters lean more toward pleasure domes and west winds than anything easily mirrored. I picked Keats' "Ode on a Grecian Urn." Last night I dreamt that I had no clue what to do for the presentation (not so much a fantasy), so I turned to my thrifty dad for help. Confidently, he assembled a sleeveless hoodie, a plaid shirt, and tattered blue jeans for me to wear. I was not so assured when it came time for my words of wisdom at school. "Um, I'm not exaaaactly sure how this outfit relates to my poem..." I hesitantly told my class.
They gaped at me, then cried out in unison: "Lucie! You're LANGSTON HUGHES."
Gardner, of course, was pissed because of my lack of attention to detail. Thanks a lot, DAD.
They gaped at me, then cried out in unison: "Lucie! You're LANGSTON HUGHES."
Gardner, of course, was pissed because of my lack of attention to detail. Thanks a lot, DAD.