catherinereynoldsteacher
catherinereynoldsteacher
| Forum role | Member since | Last activity | Topics created | Replies created |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| Member | Jul 2, 2014 (12 years) |
- | 1 | 0 |
- Forum role
- Member
- Member since
Jul 2, 2014 (12 years)
- Last activity
- -
- Topics created
- 1
- Replies created
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Bio
Catherine was born with a biography of Franklin D. Roosevelt in her hand. He passed it to her with a handsome smile on his way up Heaven's Hallway toward his eternal reward, while she continued on her merry way to birth in Ohio. Hah! And you thought you were old! Perhaps it explains her childhood obsession with biography and history. When she wasn't busy cauliflowering an unwilling ear with sad tales of poor little Abe Lincoln or devouring Landmark Books whole, she was outside in overalls, six-shooter in hand, blasting cowboys at the gallop or spitting on getaways from her post high in a leafy tree. Deterred from this behavior by her ladylike mom, she dreamed of living the idyllic life of an orphan, sleeping on a lumpy mattress in a rusty freight car and eating off chipped plates like the Boxcar Children. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Catherine has been a teacher since the age of 5, when she entered First Grade to find that the other kids hadn't already read the homey adventures of Dick and Jane over and over till they were blue in the face. She had been spending many a happy hour under her dad's train table, exploring a gold mine--a box full of her older sisters' castoff grade school readers. On she went, and In her late teens, finally found her way to Cornell University, where she discovered Child Development, a major which promised a lifetime in the place she wanted to be--in a glad classroom of her own, surrounded by delightful little children. Eventually, she moved up to high school, then down to junior high, where she found her niche--widening bored eyes to the simplicity of grammar taught in color, and unleashing the excitement of English literature by turning Macbeth's lackeys loose to chase various Lady Macduffs all around the school campus, screaming murder and mayhem. Nowadays, Catherine spends her time in a lonely garret, pecking out stories for children and adults, sipping rainwater from a cracked cup set under a slow leak in the attic roof, dreaming of publication while chewing on the odd crust of bread to sustain herself. It's a writer's life.
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