The next year in ninth grade I had Mrs. Johnson as my English teacher. It was first period and my home room. I had a good attitude right from the start and I wrote lots of stories for her. She had us keep a daily journal and gave us a few minutes each morning to write in it. She said that a journal gives you a chance to practice writing and no one else needs to see it necessarily and you can try out new things. No one will critique it.
When we studied mythology we had to write our own myth. I wrote a science fiction myth based on the Judakatrupians. When we studied Romeo and Juliette, Mrs. Johnson assigned us to write our own version of the story. Mine was again science fiction, set in Africa. I even wrote a long story called the Infinite Dimension, just for fun, and Dad took me to several people’s homes to have me read it to them. I wrote a brilliant research paper on geosynchronous solar power stations in space. And rounded it all out with yet another 25 page short story about at fifteen-year-old whiz kid named Travian who qualified to become an officer on the super star ship, Assesena. In Mrs. Johnson’s eyes, at least in a literary sense, I could do no wrong. I had come along way from my seventh grade years when every thing I wrote was looked on with disdain and in gold ink, nonetheless!.
Coming Tomorrow: Three Brothers Three Nations
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