My English professor has been on my case about majoring in literature in college.
She thinks I should take a writing class because my writing is so good; I felt so out of place when I first started at this school a year ago.
I was the quiet kid in school who tried to avoid sitting out even though we were given a short story writing assignment. When I asked her to clarify the topic, she said it was up to the individual student. The point was to see how far we’ve come as writers. After giving the idea a lot of thought, I decided to expand on my narrative about my time at the current school. She asked me to stay after class to discuss our work, and that’s when she suggested I look into becoming a writer. Since then, my English teacher and I have become close, to the point where I have visited her at her house for additional instruction. She’s a teacher here at the school, and her husband fixes air conditioners. My friend and I were once in a conversation with an HVAC technician who explained that she had originally planned to go into teaching but was now undecided about her career path. Her father was a plumber, and he knew a few HVAC technicians through mutual friends. My professor’s spouse went on to tell me how she had a part-time job with one of them, which is how she came to the conclusion that he, too, would enjoy working with HVAC systems. I’ll have to write that up as a short story for my professor, too.