Blaise Allysen Kearsley recalls the high school drama teacher who cast her in West Side Story—a woman she'd hoped would take her under her wing during a trying adolescence.
Mar 24, 2022Liked by Sari Botton, Blaise Allysen Kearsley
This is a fantastic piece. I am your student (Anita). I cannot tell you how much we actually have in common. This information will more than likely surface in the workshop.
Mar 5, 2022Liked by Sari Botton, Blaise Allysen Kearsley
“Dyscalculia, which meant my brain couldn’t process anything related to numbers. I worked at a coffee shop for six months and at shift’s end the manager would count my register, side-eye me, and say, “The till is off,” which might as well be a life-long metaphor.”
Thank you for this. I never realized what I have has a name!
I just read Blaise Allysen Kearsley's essay on her father that Sari reprinted from the archives, which led me to search out Kearsley's other writing. At her site, I landed on this! What I am seeking is to find out if Blaise is writing a memoir, because two chapters of it are already written, and I would buy it and read it in a heartbeat. The grace and humor and precision and her story itself are brilliant. Just amazing.
This is a fantastic piece. I am your student (Anita). I cannot tell you how much we actually have in common. This information will more than likely surface in the workshop.
Thank you, Blaise, for this wonderful essay. I thought I'd found That Person in my junior high music teacher. She couldn't have children, and my relationship with my mother was tense and hostile. I became my music teacher's favorite, but remaining in her good graces required perfection, which meant I behaved any way that she required. Boys were not allowed to touch me, I had to always be a "lady" and set an example for the other students, and I was not allowed to ever make waves by standing up for myself. I moved on to high school, and she --- supposedly against all odds --- became pregnant, and no longer needed me.
This is a fantastic piece. I am your student (Anita). I cannot tell you how much we actually have in common. This information will more than likely surface in the workshop.
“Dyscalculia, which meant my brain couldn’t process anything related to numbers. I worked at a coffee shop for six months and at shift’s end the manager would count my register, side-eye me, and say, “The till is off,” which might as well be a life-long metaphor.”
Thank you for this. I never realized what I have has a name!
I just read Blaise Allysen Kearsley's essay on her father that Sari reprinted from the archives, which led me to search out Kearsley's other writing. At her site, I landed on this! What I am seeking is to find out if Blaise is writing a memoir, because two chapters of it are already written, and I would buy it and read it in a heartbeat. The grace and humor and precision and her story itself are brilliant. Just amazing.
This is a fantastic piece. I am your student (Anita). I cannot tell you how much we actually have in common. This information will more than likely surface in the workshop.
Thank you, Blaise, for this wonderful essay. I thought I'd found That Person in my junior high music teacher. She couldn't have children, and my relationship with my mother was tense and hostile. I became my music teacher's favorite, but remaining in her good graces required perfection, which meant I behaved any way that she required. Boys were not allowed to touch me, I had to always be a "lady" and set an example for the other students, and I was not allowed to ever make waves by standing up for myself. I moved on to high school, and she --- supposedly against all odds --- became pregnant, and no longer needed me.