This series of subjects is not from Natalie Goldberg's book, just something that keeps popping up while I'm writing.
It was sophomore English, she was a family friend and a smart, exacting teacher. A chosen piece of literature was the topic of the junior and senior essays in my high school English program, but in our sophomore year, as an introduction to the process of research and essay writing, we were allowed to choose any topic of interest. Science and communication were interests of mine and I had just read an article about Koko, the gorilla whose keeper taught her to communicate with sign language. Not only could Koko use established words, according to her trainer she also formulated new words (like, finger-bracelet for ring) showing interpretation and a higher intelligence than previously understood. "Cool," I thought!
"Juvenile," she wrote! She walked up and down the aisles handing back the essays; I remember it very well. I was sitting hopeful at my desk, wondering if she had appreciated reading about Koko as much as I had. The assignment was one with which I had personally identified and enjoyed, my memories of doing the research are pleasurable, even colorful. I think the grade was a "C" but that wasn't what jabbed a knife into my heart; I had earned "C's" before. My teacher - my parents' friend, one of the grown-ups in my life since my birth and even a occasional babysitter - had written across the top of my essay in very large, red, cursive letters, "Juvenile."
I have no idea what was juvenile, she didn't expound. I just had to assume it was my writing, my interests, my choices, my self.
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