In 1994 I was a different person, or so I thought. I was young, naive and pretty headstrong. I got into the University of Alberta with mediocre marks thinking I didn’t belong. I was full of ideas but low on self-esteem and confidence. I was on the brink of adulthood with no plan, no map and no idea. I did have opinions, gumption and no filter. I was happy to voice an opinion without thinking through consequences, and hurt feelings.
One thing I did know is that I wanted my English Professor to admit that not everything was full of metaphor and that it was not possible to write an eight page essay on a 16 word poem. It was hard to believe that “so much depends on a red wheelbarrow” or any other wheelbarrow for that matter.
so much depends upon
a red wheel barrow
glazed with rain water
beside the white chickens.
By William Carlos Williams
Twenty-two years later I had barely thought of that class or the petite young professor with her long blonde hair perched on the table at the front of the room gracefully dodging the class’ criticism and negativity. I do however think often about the texts we read. I will never forget Frankenstein and its connection to the modern day question of humanity. I won’t forget the astonishment I had when reading Obasan and the realization that Canadians are just as guilty of human atrocities as other countries. Honestly, I think that book was the beginning of my passion for social justice. The spark of my feminist roots can also be traced to a nameless woman trapped behind The Yellow Wallpaper.
This week has been a week of reflection. I turned 40. It hasn’t been traumatic. Truth be told I have felt 40 for a long time. My life as a parent, professional, and caregiver have left little room for the notion of immaturity. In many ways I can relate to all the women Charlotte Perkins Stetson described lurking behind the yellow wallpaper. My life is full of responsibilities and expectations. I think I understand now about the red wheelbarrow, although I’m still not sure about the chickens.
It isn’t as much of a downer as that sounds. My life is also full of purpose, success, and joy mostly because of those responsibilities. I am very grateful for how things have turned out. I am proud of myself and the life I have built.
This week 22 years later, I was sitting in a yet another classroom. One of the facilitators of the course approached me during a break. She said she only taught one Krista as a professor and it was in her first year teaching. She described to me the young lady that somehow was etched in her memory. She described that young woman as smart, opinionated and fairly abrupt in her critiques.
There is something strange in seeing yourself through someone else’s eyes 22 years later. She told me that my essay on The Yellow Wallpaper was probably the best essay that she read that year. I guess I was smarter than I thought.
This year I got the best birthday present. I got to visit with a younger version of myself. I got to see myself through someone else’s eyes.
I also got to thank a mentor. The sign of a good professor is when her lessons stick with you even years later. I would say she was an enormous success.