On Writing and Storytelling: When Fiction Meets Reality – an Excerpt from ‘Reunion: Coda’

Where Fiction Meets Reality – An Excerpt from Reunion: Coda

If you’re a regular visitor here, you may know that several episodes in my Jim Garraty stories draw on my experiences at South Miami Senior High from late August 1980 to mid-June 1983. Jim’s academic path, however, is vastly different from mine. He is college-bound and has crystal-clear career goals; I drifted through 10^th, 11^th, and 12^th grades with only a vague aspiration to become a writer “someday.” Even so, I gave Jim some of my lived experiences: mistaking my 10^th-grade homeroom teacher, Mrs. Billie Bernstein, for a fellow student; being tricked by Ms. Owen, my chorus teacher for almost three years, into singing a solo at the 1981 Winter (Christmas) Concert; and auditioning for the Boys’ Chorus (Men’s Ensemble) in Ms. Owen’s office at the ungodly hour of 7:15 AM in January 1981—again, during 10^th grade.

In this excerpt from an early chapter of Reunion: Coda, Jim arrives at homeroom several minutes after the period has begun, having just auditioned for “Mrs. Quincy” to earn a place in the Boys’ Chorus—and a change to his class schedule:

Late to Homeroom

7:45 AM

I was late for homeroom. Mrs. Brillenstein didn’t like that. She could have passed for one of the older students at first glance, with long auburn hair and big brown eyes that could be friendly or fierce, depending on her mood. She taught English 2, Regular, and drama in Room 230, which was also known as the Little Theater. It had a small stage and rows of seats that curved around it like a horseshoe. It was a cool place to hang out, but not when Mrs. Brillenstein was mad at you.

The first time I met her, on the first day of 10^th grade, I mistook her for a student. She was sitting behind the desk, reading a book, and I walked up to her and asked, “Do you know when Mrs. Brillenstein will get here?”

She looked up with a blank expression. “You’re talking to her, Mr…?” She waited for me to fill in the blank.

My face went hot. “Oh…you’re Mrs. Brillenstein. I thought you were…oh. I’m sorry.”

For a second, she stared at me. Then the corner of her mouth lifted. “That’s okay. First-day jitters. You’re in my homeroom, right?”

She took the postcard from my hand, checked it against her roll sheet, then handed it back. “Take a seat, please, Mr. Garraty.”

I still laugh at myself for that blunder. But not when Mrs. Brillenstein was annoyed with me, the way she almost was on the morning I signed up for chorus.

Mrs. Brillenstein gave me a look that said she was not thrilled to see me. I was 20 minutes late for homeroom on the first day back from winter break. Fortunately, I had a good excuse: I had been to see Mrs. Quincy and my guidance counselor, and they had changed my schedule. Better still, they had given me papers to prove it.

“Boys’ Chorus?” Mrs. Brillenstein said, raising her eyebrows as she looked from my new schedule to me. A mischievous twinkle appeared in her eyes, which somehow made me more nervous. “So you want to be a singer, Mr. Garraty? Have you ever thought about taking Drama I?”

I shook my head. “No way, Mrs. B,” I said, taking the papers back from her. “I can’t act to save my life.”

She smiled. It was a nice smile, but it didn’t make me feel any less nervous. “Don’t sell yourself short, Mr. Garraty,” she said softly. “You might have hidden talents you don’t know about.” Then, in a louder voice, she added, “You’re lucky you didn’t lose those papers on your way here. I was about to mark you absent. Now go sit down. I have announcements to make before you go to first period.”