"There was no possibility of taking a walk thatday. We had been wandering indeed, in the leafless shrubbery an hour inthe morning, but since dinner (Mrs. Reed, when there was no company,dined early) the cold winter wind had brought with it clouds so somber,and a rain so penetrating, that further out-door exercise was now out ofthe question." This is the opening paragraph of Charlotte Bronte'sJane Eyre.

My English teacher says quotes are like chocolatechips. She also says that since Charlotte Bronte is a better writer thanour entire Honors class combined, we should have no qualms aboutincluding as many quotes as possible in our essays.

This is aslap in the face - I hate Bronte! She is evil, and her work is worsethan the writings of a mad toddler. I want to burn the book in protest,but there is no room for protest in English class. No quotes equal a badgrade.

"I was glad of it: I never liked long walks,especially on chilly afternoons: dreadful to me was coming home in theraw twilight, nipped fingers and toes, and a heart saddened by thechidings of Bessie ..." Chocolate chips, the more the better. Eversince that comment I've placed an embargo on the supermarket's pastryaisle. I've read half of Jane Eyre, but since starting it, I've finishedthree other books. That is no joke. Reading Jane Eyre makes me want tocarve my eyes out with a dull spoon.

My English teacher is a verysmart lady, and since she can also write better than the whole class, Iwill quote her as well. This is a conversation I hear at least twiceeach class:

"Okay, my little miserable morons," shesays. "Since you have no chance of understanding the all-consuminglove Jane feels for Mr. Rochester, why don't we just spend the classhaving Random Thought Time?"

"I have a randomthought!" a boy says.

"Yes, goahead."

"Someone should resurrect Bronte and crucifyher, so that students today won't have to suffer through hernovel."

"Very nice. Although I respect your opinion,you should be aware that you are now going tofail."

"Yes, I am aware," the boy says.

ByChapter 20, Jane is still rambling about the most useless topics andexpecting the reader to sympathize. "I had forgotten to draw mycurtain, which I usually did; and also to let down mywindow-blind." Frankly, I couldn't care less about whether herpearl necklace matches her drab blue dress, or why Grace Poole is such atool. See, that rhymes. I really am a better writer than CharlotteBronte.

"I thanked God - experienced amidst unutterableexhaustion a glow of grateful joy and slept." At this point Jane ishappy because her book is about to end; she probably realizes howterrible it is and is fed up. I really don't see why my English teacherlikes this book so much. Often I fantasize about tearing my copy toshreds in her face.

"Hey," I wouldyell.

"Yes, you intolerablenuisance?"

"Sucks to your ass-mar!" I wouldscream, quoting from Lord of the Flies. I would tear up her beloved JaneEyre and gloat with glory. I would laugh out loud in real joy - joy Janecould not possibly have known - the joy of victory.

I havedecided to get the CliffsNotes for Jane Eyre, yes, CliffsNotes, mysanctuary and paradise for all eternity. God bless Mr. Cliff.