Word: seven-year-old
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Frank McCourt, former high school English teacher and Pulitzer Prize-winning author, told stories of the 30 years he spent teaching New York teenagers—whom he described as “either hungry or horny”—last night at the Gutman Conference Center of the Graduate School of Education (GSE). Introduced by GSE Dean Kathleen McCartney as a writer able “to inhabit the mind of a seven-year-old child with great authenticity,” McCourt approached the podium with no notes and only a copy of his latest memoir...
...demurred - he was a lower-middle-class kid who got a scholarship to read history and the law at Cambridge - but he doesn't say if he did.) "We wanted to get a good cross-section of English society... the idea being that out of the mouths of seven-year-old children we might learn some truths about English society: what they thought about each other, their ambitions, their thoughts on money, color, race, sex. They might give some insight into whether English society was really changing...
...describing New York parents, Gopnik does not fail to leave out the “yuppie” factor. He details the production of a “Peter Pan” play put on at his seven-year-old son’s private school, where an ad hoc committee is formed with the goal of figuring out a way for the children to fly on stage. The various suggestions, which include step ladders (“That won’t give the illusion of flight. That’ll give the illusion of their being housepainters...
...member of the Ryan administration, practically swooning as she praises the former governor as "a damn decent guy." Topinka, who has never been implicated as a participant in Ryan's patronage schemes, counters with references to recent revelations of a $1,500 "birthday gift" to Blagojevich's then seven-year-old daughter from a friend whose wife had just received a state job. "Isn't our last governor going to jail over this?" the announcer ominously wonders...
...last time my wife Sally and I saw him, the Sunday before he died, he and Trish called in on their way home from the airport. They'd eaten on the plane, but our seven-year-old decided to make him a sandwich. She tore holes in the bread with chunks of too-cold butter, stuck on a slice of ham and smeared the lot with enough hot English mustard to make a shark weep. Len ate it as though it were the finest dish ever offered to him, licked his lips and said, "Lucy, that was so delicious...