Imagined History 5

(Some portion of this post is fictitious – at least the first sentence is true – and part of my participation this month in the Creative Act project. My theme this week is Imagined History.)

I was one of those good girls who liked school. When home got crazy, school was a haven. The right answers seemed within easy reach.

When it came time to apply for college, there was a little tension – this was almost fifty years ago, remember – because my father wasn't altogether comfortable with the idea of his girl going away to school. Finally he let me apply, and I ended up getting in to all three schools I'd sent applications to: Connecticut College, Rivier (up in New Hampshire), and even Radcliffe.

I don't know if this kind of thing still happens, but back then people were very private and prideful about money. At least my father was. There were scholarships at Conn and Radcliffe that I could have applied for, but he would have needed to fill out a confidential form detailing our family's financial situation, and he just wouldn't do it.

I know now that I could have moved out and petitioned the schools to consider me as an independent student, but I don't think anyone in my life knew about that then. So I went to Rivier. And that's why my French is French-Canadian.

(Many thanks to the folks at The Creative Act
for their inspiring challenge this month,
and to AP, who inadvertently inspired this story today.)