A sudden memory

I'm old enough that when I was very young — like, first or second grade — photocopiers were still way, way too expensive for most schools. Instead, our worksheets were dittoed using a "spirit master." This yielded copies with writing of a mystical purple color, fragrant with the scent of competence: not flowers or incense or Easter-egg dye, but a different purple altogether, brisk and important.

Every time I received one of these dittos, I surreptitiously held it to my face and inhaled. I stared at the writing: alphabet or math worksheets, maps, illustrations to describe. My pencil marks looked crude compared to the purple lines, rich and heavy like watercolor.

Each question or puzzle was one more step towards competence of my own. I was good at worksheets. One day, if I did enough worksheets, I would know everything.