Last night Precious Youngest walked down the stairs and into the room where I was recounting my long, laborious day to the Saint. She handed me two sheets of paper, a red pen, my reading glasses, and went back upstairs. (I've been proof reading papers for the Precious Daughters for a long time, by senior year they take editing suggestions without question.)
The essay was for her AP Literary Analysis course. The assignment was to write a personal essay about a remembered event. I started reading and two sentences into the paper I knew which “event” she was writing about. An incident that altered her high school experience in incalculable ways, not necessarily for the better.
I read the essay three times. Her writing was succinct, powerful, emotionally raw, and fearless. Fiercly blinking to keep the threatening tears at bay, I gave her back those two pages. With an unused red pen.
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6 comments:
let us read the essay, if she wants us to that is.
I loved the 'unused red pen'.
Any chance she wants to share?
High school is a rough time. Hug her for all of us -
I also loved the unused red pen.
Good for her! I would love to have the chance to read it!
Wow. That is the most powerful post.
I too use the red pen of retribution here. I'm waiting now for a day like this with my kids.
Good for your daughter for finding her voice in such a healthy and marvelous way. Long live the writers.
I'm joining those hoping to read Precious Youngest's essay.
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