The Story of My Face (2011)
“She had her head down, marking, and I was so close to her that I could see individual hairs, the way the grey was made up of white and black. I stood by her desk, shifting my weight from foot to foot, and willed her to look up and smile.
‘Excuse me, Miss –’ She remembered me, of course. Teachers generally did: the extraordinary hair, the dull, almost inaudible voice I used when forced to read anything aloud, the way my writing was inconsistently peppered with childish mistakes and perfectly spe...lled longer words, my habit of staring serenely into space during tests, as if the whole thing was nothing to do with me, refusing to even try – Natalie Baron? Oh, yes – At the same time, because I would sit right in the front row, my eyes roving over the teacher’s face, almost meeting her eyes twenty times in the course of a lesson, slipping away just before the moment of reciprocation, dragging away bits of her attention, returning again to her face as soon as she’d looked away . .MoreLess
‘Excuse me, Miss –’ She remembered me, of course. Teachers generally did: the extraordinary hair, the dull, almost inaudible voice I used when forced to read anything aloud, the way my writing was inconsistently peppered with childish mistakes and perfectly spe...lled longer words, my habit of staring serenely into space during tests, as if the whole thing was nothing to do with me, refusing to even try – Natalie Baron? Oh, yes – At the same time, because I would sit right in the front row, my eyes roving over the teacher’s face, almost meeting her eyes twenty times in the course of a lesson, slipping away just before the moment of reciprocation, dragging away bits of her attention, returning again to her face as soon as she’d looked away . .MoreLess
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