Every morning, I come into my classroom, plug in my Christmas lights, and smile because magnetic Virginia Woolf looks like she is blessing magnetic F. Scott Fitzgerald. The magnet in Virginia’s bun isn’t terribly strong, so usually she perches precariously in the handle of my filing cabinet. But every night, she slips down towards F. Scott.
…There is so much symbolism here, my English major brain can’t even take it.
…Clearly, I teach English for a reason.