When I was in High School, I pitched the idea of a column to the editor of the school newspaper, Jimmy. He suggested that I join the paper instead â€” I guess â€œChristineâ€™s Cornerâ€ didnâ€™t strike him as an especially scintillating regular feature. But he needed writers â€” and there I was â€” an eager tenth grader who could spell. (I could, however, not type.)
And so I joined, eventually rising through the (not very) competitive ranks to become the editor of the Spark â€” named (as some older students suggested) after a Trotskyist publication.
Then a few years later, I followed Jimmy â€“ who was a bit older â€“ to Ryerson to study journalism. My portfolio submission? Copies of the Spark. In addition to the portfolio, there was a typing test. We had to write a story on a typewriter and were not tested for speed, but rather content. So I got in, since we could look at the keys.
“Christineâ€™s Corner” never did come to fruition. Jimmy was right, it was not such a hot idea. And grown-up Christine is not a journalist today, either. (I do, however, finally have my own corner.)
But I love what I do and I have Jimmy â€“ and all of the other kids who hung out (and sometimes drank) in the Spark office â€“ to thank for it.