God gives us wisdom

Judith H. Hedrick

English had not been an easy subject for me in high school, and this modern literature class in college was no different.

The class was divided into three sections—poetry, plays, and short stories. At the end of the first section I had a D in the class. I just couldn't figure out the symbolism. To me a rose was a rose—period; it wasn't a symbol for love or purity or anything else. I just didn't know what the poets were talking about.

Now I needed to write a paper about a modern play that was filled to the brim with symbols, metaphors, and allusions. I was very discouraged. In high school I had frequently relied on my parents for help. Here in college I felt very much alone with my problems.

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