Not on the Common. Still Janeite.
I was reading on the Common after class the other day when — ugh, this is one of the times when truth is misleading. This sounds like I left a well-executed English lesson, scooped up my papers, and walked across the street to the park to sit in the sunshine and read literature, doesn’t it? Picture me with my pencil skirt and wedge heels, partly because that’s what I actually wear to class, and partly because that’s what an English teacher reading the part ought to wear, right?
Actually, I’ve been subbing, so my students ask me perfectly natural questions about their schedule changes or the absence policy or other things no one’s explained to me, and I have to admit that I can’t possibly help them. I mean, I’ve barely found the copier and spare pens. A lot of my class time is spent realizing that my 20-minute activity is going to take 40 minutes at least, or vice versa.
So when I say I’ve been reading on the Common, what I actually mean is that I leave class, toss myself onto an empty patch of grass, and enjoy the delightful silence and solitude. And then I start reading about the further adventures of Mr. Darcy, which is what I meant to tell you about in the first sentence.
