When she discovered at my graduation that I wasn’t a teacher she acted as though she’d been swindled. In her mind a girl child went in one door marked college and came out another marked teacher. “You mean you’re not a teacher?” she said to me, eyes widening as her two strong hands held my diploma down on the kitchen table. “No,” I said. “What have you been doing there all these years?” she asked quietly. “Reading novels,” I replied.
