{"id":6720,"date":"2010-10-27T00:00:50","date_gmt":"2010-10-27T04:00:50","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?p=6720"},"modified":"2018-12-10T14:09:50","modified_gmt":"2018-12-10T19:09:50","slug":"finding-my-chicago","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2010\/10\/27\/finding-my-chicago\/","title":{"rendered":"Finding My Chicago"},"content":{"rendered":"

The year I lived and taught high school in Texas\u2014June 2009 to June 2010\u2014I watched Friday Night Lights<\/em>. The fourth season was airing, and it was, satisfyingly, thematically pegged to my life. Coach Taylor, no longer head of the Panthers, was putting together a team from scratch. His players were unschooled in the rudiments of football; many of my students were unschooled in the rudiments of English. He struggled to regain his players\u2019 respect after forfeiting the first game of the season; I struggled to regain my students\u2019 respect after crying in front of them. Many of his players lived on the wrong side of the tracks; some of my students lived on the wrong side of the border. There was a fundamental difference though: He knew what he was doing, and I did not.<\/p>\n

Coach Taylor is not just a football coach; he is a \u201cmolder of men.\u201d I was more like the young teacher played by Austin Nichols who shows up in season two just long enough to give Julie a copy of The World According to Garp<\/em> and then get yelled at by her mother. I was twenty-two, fresh out of college. I was hardly molded myself.<\/p>\n

I was living in McAllen, a booming border town, where I taught English II and ESL to high-school students. My twenty sophomores couldn\u2019t, for the most part, read on grade level, but they could read. Though I struggled to teach them, for example, how to identify the tone and theme of a text, how to parse how each was constructed, and what purpose each served, I could at least be sure that they understood the words coming out of my mouth. This was by no means true in my two ESL classes. I was supposed to be preparing my students for the state-mandated ninth-grade English exam\u2014though it didn\u2019t go very far beyond reading comprehension, it was nonetheless challenging for students who didn\u2019t read English\u2014but reading in class was time consuming and frustrating for everyone involved. Mostly we memorized basic vocabulary words and conjugated verbs.<\/p>\n

I had applied to Teach for America my senior year of college. It wasn\u2019t exactly a whim. Still, my decision had less to do with an honest desire to bring quality instruction to low-income students, and more to do with a determination not to move to New York. New York was the default option; I wanted something different, something harder. Chicago, a city I\u2019d never visited, loomed large in my post-graduate fantasies; I had romantic ideas about brutal winters and the Midwest.<\/p>\n

I clicked through the online application hurriedly, ranking regional preferences according to gut feelings; Boston ended up near the bottom because I had decided it wasn\u2019t a real city. I must have ranked the Rio Grande Valley\u2014the region which includes McAllen\u2014fairly high, but I honestly don\u2019t remember; when my placement came, I was shocked to see how far away the Valley was from Austin.<\/p>\n

It was also far from Dillon. Dillon is a hardscrabble ranch town full of flat, open spaces. McAllen was flat, but in the way that crappy suburbs are flat. There were at least three Targets and two Walmarts within a ten-minute drive of my house. Most of the time, it looked exactly like every other anonymous place in America, though there were moments\u2014sitting on my front steps drinking beer on a Friday afternoon in October; tossing a football around in the backyard on a brisk Saturday in December; getting out of school at five thirty on a Wednesday in April, the sun on a downward trajectory and the wind picking up\u2014that felt so appropriately melancholy that Tim Riggins himself could have ambled over to me, greasy and half drunk, and I wouldn\u2019t have been surprised.<\/p>\n

Bingeing on old episodes after a chaotic and disappointing day in which I had taught nothing but learned a great deal about my own failings\u2014after three days of trying to teach the difference between simple, compound, and complex sentences, I had finally given up the cause as lost\u2014I began to notice how expertly the show dramatized those moments when adolescents, almost unconsciously, begin to act like adults. Landry telling Tyra that he is sick of being her giving tree; Riggins telling Lyla she has to leave him and go to Vanderbilt. In the fourth season, Matt, who stayed in Dillon to be with Julie, his high-school girlfriend, disappears without saying goodbye. When he comes back with stories of Chicago and a plane ticket for Julie, she tells him no. She tells him that she needs to find her own Chicago. Coach Taylor\u2019s influence lurks in the background; can anyone doubt that his lessons about trust, self-respect, honesty, and determination prompt these random acts of maturity?<\/p>\n

One morning, I saw one of my sophomores in the cafeteria standing apart from her friends, sipping a small cup of coffee. Her gaze was focused on some point in the distance; she reminded me of my own not-so-distant high-school self, who carried her own travel mug and would run through to-do lists in her head in the morning; each piece of homework done, each set of lecture notes retyped, each parental argument moderated was a step in direction of maturity. I remember the weight of responsibility as heavy, but not unpleasant. Some time later, when I called her house to let her parents know how well she was doing in my class, I discovered that she lived with her grandmother while her mother worked four hours away. A student who was reading Tucker Max\u2019s I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell<\/em> at the beginning of the year started coming into my classroom during lunch to talk about Robert Lowell and small liberal arts colleges. After I gave up trying to explain how to outline the introductory paragraph of a persuasive essay to a kindhearted but hyperactive sixteen-year-old, his friend\u2014who was punk rock enough to wear screws in his ears, but, by the end of the year, not too cool to ask me for a letter of recommendation\u2014patiently walked him through the process.<\/p>\n

Somewhere near the end of the first semester, when I had run out of ideas but not quite given up, I let my sophomores watch the series premier of Friday Night Lights<\/em>. Mostly I was tired of coming up with lesson plans, but it\u2019s also true that I adored my students, and I wanted to share something that was important to me. It\u2019s great for a lot of reasons\u2014that shaky camera work; Matt\u2019s banter with Landry; Kyle Chandler\u2014but it\u2019s also appropriate in a way that I, guilty about lost instructional hours, discounted at the time: It\u2019s about a moment I was trying to force my students to live; it\u2019s about a moment that forces everyone to grow up.<\/p>\n

At the end of the year, I wrote each of my sophomores personal notes. I tried to be encouraging, hopeful, honest; I now realize what I was trying to say was, You have to find your own Chicago. You have to grow up. You have to leave. As much as I love Berryman and Didion\u2014both of whom I tried and mostly failed to teach\u2014what I really wanted my students to have at the end of the year was a sense of possibility, and the tools\u2014the ability to correctly punctuate a sentence, to write a coherent paragraph\u2014that would allow them to pursue it. I was only marginally\u2014say, twenty-five percent\u2014successful because, as it turned out, far from being Tami or Coach or even Austin Nichols, I was Julie. In June, I left, and in August, I couldn\u2019t return. I had to find my own Chicago.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

The year I lived and taught high school in Texas\u2014June 2009 to June 2010\u2014I watched Friday Night Lights. The fourth season was airing, and it was, satisfyingly, thematically pegged to my life. Coach Taylor, no longer head of the Panthers, was putting together a team from scratch. His players were unschooled in the rudiments of […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":62,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[1160],"tags":[1165,1170,1169,212,1163,1171,1167,1168,54,1166,1164],"class_list":["post-6720","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-on-television","tag-coach-taylor","tag-dillon","tag-finding-my-own-chicago","tag-football","tag-friday-night-lights","tag-high-school","tag-mcallen","tag-teach-for-america","tag-television","tag-texas","tag-tim-riggins"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\nFinding My Chicago by Miranda Popkey<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"October 27, 2010 \u2013 The year I lived and taught high school in Texas\u2014June 2009 to June 2010\u2014I watched Friday Night Lights. The fourth season was airing, and it was,\" \/>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2010\/10\/27\/finding-my-chicago\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"Finding My Chicago by Miranda Popkey\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"October 27, 2010 \u2013 The year I lived and taught high school in Texas\u2014June 2009 to June 2010\u2014I watched Friday Night Lights. The fourth season was airing, and it was,\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:url\" content=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2010\/10\/27\/finding-my-chicago\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:site_name\" content=\"The Paris Review\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:publisher\" content=\"https:\/\/www.facebook.com\/parisreview\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:published_time\" content=\"2010-10-27T04:00:50+00:00\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:modified_time\" content=\"2018-12-10T19:09:50+00:00\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:image\" content=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/04\/tpr-hadada-roundell-logo-1.png\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:width\" content=\"1200\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:height\" content=\"675\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:type\" content=\"image\/png\" \/>\n<meta name=\"author\" content=\"Miranda Popkey\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:card\" content=\"summary_large_image\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:creator\" content=\"@parisreview\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:site\" content=\"@parisreview\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:label1\" content=\"Written by\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:data1\" content=\"Miranda Popkey\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:label2\" content=\"Est. reading time\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:data2\" content=\"7 minutes\" \/>\n<script type=\"application\/ld+json\" class=\"yoast-schema-graph\">{\"@context\":\"https:\/\/schema.org\",\"@graph\":[{\"@type\":\"Article\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2010\/10\/27\/finding-my-chicago\/#article\",\"isPartOf\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2010\/10\/27\/finding-my-chicago\/\"},\"author\":{\"name\":\"Miranda Popkey\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/#\/schema\/person\/ce0eda6d8fbee7c043c0a2e79cd57004\"},\"headline\":\"Finding My Chicago\",\"datePublished\":\"2010-10-27T04:00:50+00:00\",\"dateModified\":\"2018-12-10T19:09:50+00:00\",\"mainEntityOfPage\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2010\/10\/27\/finding-my-chicago\/\"},\"wordCount\":1312,\"commentCount\":3,\"publisher\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/#organization\"},\"keywords\":[\"Coach Taylor\",\"Dillon\",\"finding my own Chicago\",\"football\",\"Friday Night Lights\",\"high school\",\"McAllen\",\"Teach for America\",\"television\",\"Texas\",\"Tim Riggins\"],\"articleSection\":[\"On Television\"],\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\",\"potentialAction\":[{\"@type\":\"CommentAction\",\"name\":\"Comment\",\"target\":[\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2010\/10\/27\/finding-my-chicago\/#respond\"]}]},{\"@type\":\"WebPage\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2010\/10\/27\/finding-my-chicago\/\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2010\/10\/27\/finding-my-chicago\/\",\"name\":\"Finding My Chicago by Miranda Popkey\",\"isPartOf\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/#website\"},\"datePublished\":\"2010-10-27T04:00:50+00:00\",\"dateModified\":\"2018-12-10T19:09:50+00:00\",\"description\":\"October 27, 2010 \u2013 The year I lived and taught high school in Texas\u2014June 2009 to June 2010\u2014I watched Friday Night Lights. The fourth season was airing, and it was,\",\"breadcrumb\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2010\/10\/27\/finding-my-chicago\/#breadcrumb\"},\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\",\"potentialAction\":[{\"@type\":\"ReadAction\",\"target\":[\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2010\/10\/27\/finding-my-chicago\/\"]}]},{\"@type\":\"BreadcrumbList\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2010\/10\/27\/finding-my-chicago\/#breadcrumb\",\"itemListElement\":[{\"@type\":\"ListItem\",\"position\":1,\"name\":\"Home\",\"item\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/\"},{\"@type\":\"ListItem\",\"position\":2,\"name\":\"Finding My Chicago\"}]},{\"@type\":\"WebSite\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/#website\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/\",\"name\":\"The Paris Review\",\"description\":\"The best prose, interviews, poetry, and art. Since 1953.\",\"publisher\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/#organization\"},\"potentialAction\":[{\"@type\":\"SearchAction\",\"target\":{\"@type\":\"EntryPoint\",\"urlTemplate\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?s={search_term_string}\"},\"query-input\":{\"@type\":\"PropertyValueSpecification\",\"valueRequired\":true,\"valueName\":\"search_term_string\"}}],\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\"},{\"@type\":\"Organization\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/#organization\",\"name\":\"The Paris Review\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/\",\"logo\":{\"@type\":\"ImageObject\",\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/#\/schema\/logo\/image\/\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/04\/tpr-hadada-roundell-logo-square.png\",\"contentUrl\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/04\/tpr-hadada-roundell-logo-square.png\",\"width\":696,\"height\":696,\"caption\":\"The Paris Review\"},\"image\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/#\/schema\/logo\/image\/\"},\"sameAs\":[\"https:\/\/www.facebook.com\/parisreview\/\",\"https:\/\/x.com\/parisreview\",\"https:\/\/www.instagram.com\/parisreview\"]},{\"@type\":\"Person\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/#\/schema\/person\/ce0eda6d8fbee7c043c0a2e79cd57004\",\"name\":\"Miranda Popkey\",\"image\":{\"@type\":\"ImageObject\",\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/#\/schema\/person\/image\/\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/secure.gravatar.com\/avatar\/1f51b33ebf285792e2ca73a336aa4dc2e389805f5d955d83ab113d48937695f0?s=96&d=mm&r=g\",\"contentUrl\":\"https:\/\/secure.gravatar.com\/avatar\/1f51b33ebf285792e2ca73a336aa4dc2e389805f5d955d83ab113d48937695f0?s=96&d=mm&r=g\",\"caption\":\"Miranda Popkey\"},\"url\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/author\/mpopkey\/\"}]}<\/script>\n<!-- \/ Yoast SEO Premium plugin. -->","yoast_head_json":{"title":"Finding My Chicago by Miranda Popkey","description":"October 27, 2010 \u2013 The year I lived and taught high school in Texas\u2014June 2009 to June 2010\u2014I watched Friday Night Lights. The fourth season was airing, and it was,","robots":{"index":"index","follow":"follow","max-snippet":"max-snippet:-1","max-image-preview":"max-image-preview:large","max-video-preview":"max-video-preview:-1"},"canonical":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2010\/10\/27\/finding-my-chicago\/","og_locale":"en_US","og_type":"article","og_title":"Finding My Chicago by Miranda Popkey","og_description":"October 27, 2010 \u2013 The year I lived and taught high school in Texas\u2014June 2009 to June 2010\u2014I watched Friday Night Lights. The fourth season was airing, and it was,","og_url":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2010\/10\/27\/finding-my-chicago\/","og_site_name":"The Paris Review","article_publisher":"https:\/\/www.facebook.com\/parisreview\/","article_published_time":"2010-10-27T04:00:50+00:00","article_modified_time":"2018-12-10T19:09:50+00:00","og_image":[{"width":1200,"height":675,"url":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/04\/tpr-hadada-roundell-logo-1.png","type":"image\/png"}],"author":"Miranda Popkey","twitter_card":"summary_large_image","twitter_creator":"@parisreview","twitter_site":"@parisreview","twitter_misc":{"Written by":"Miranda Popkey","Est. reading time":"7 minutes"},"schema":{"@context":"https:\/\/schema.org","@graph":[{"@type":"Article","@id":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2010\/10\/27\/finding-my-chicago\/#article","isPartOf":{"@id":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2010\/10\/27\/finding-my-chicago\/"},"author":{"name":"Miranda Popkey","@id":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/#\/schema\/person\/ce0eda6d8fbee7c043c0a2e79cd57004"},"headline":"Finding My Chicago","datePublished":"2010-10-27T04:00:50+00:00","dateModified":"2018-12-10T19:09:50+00:00","mainEntityOfPage":{"@id":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2010\/10\/27\/finding-my-chicago\/"},"wordCount":1312,"commentCount":3,"publisher":{"@id":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/#organization"},"keywords":["Coach Taylor","Dillon","finding my own Chicago","football","Friday Night Lights","high school","McAllen","Teach for America","television","Texas","Tim Riggins"],"articleSection":["On Television"],"inLanguage":"en-US","potentialAction":[{"@type":"CommentAction","name":"Comment","target":["https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2010\/10\/27\/finding-my-chicago\/#respond"]}]},{"@type":"WebPage","@id":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2010\/10\/27\/finding-my-chicago\/","url":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2010\/10\/27\/finding-my-chicago\/","name":"Finding My Chicago by Miranda Popkey","isPartOf":{"@id":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/#website"},"datePublished":"2010-10-27T04:00:50+00:00","dateModified":"2018-12-10T19:09:50+00:00","description":"October 27, 2010 \u2013 The year I lived and taught high school in Texas\u2014June 2009 to June 2010\u2014I watched Friday Night Lights. The fourth season was airing, and it was,","breadcrumb":{"@id":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2010\/10\/27\/finding-my-chicago\/#breadcrumb"},"inLanguage":"en-US","potentialAction":[{"@type":"ReadAction","target":["https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2010\/10\/27\/finding-my-chicago\/"]}]},{"@type":"BreadcrumbList","@id":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2010\/10\/27\/finding-my-chicago\/#breadcrumb","itemListElement":[{"@type":"ListItem","position":1,"name":"Home","item":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/"},{"@type":"ListItem","position":2,"name":"Finding My Chicago"}]},{"@type":"WebSite","@id":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/#website","url":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/","name":"The Paris Review","description":"The best prose, interviews, poetry, and art. Since 1953.","publisher":{"@id":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/#organization"},"potentialAction":[{"@type":"SearchAction","target":{"@type":"EntryPoint","urlTemplate":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?s={search_term_string}"},"query-input":{"@type":"PropertyValueSpecification","valueRequired":true,"valueName":"search_term_string"}}],"inLanguage":"en-US"},{"@type":"Organization","@id":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/#organization","name":"The Paris Review","url":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/","logo":{"@type":"ImageObject","inLanguage":"en-US","@id":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/#\/schema\/logo\/image\/","url":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/04\/tpr-hadada-roundell-logo-square.png","contentUrl":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/04\/tpr-hadada-roundell-logo-square.png","width":696,"height":696,"caption":"The Paris Review"},"image":{"@id":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/#\/schema\/logo\/image\/"},"sameAs":["https:\/\/www.facebook.com\/parisreview\/","https:\/\/x.com\/parisreview","https:\/\/www.instagram.com\/parisreview"]},{"@type":"Person","@id":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/#\/schema\/person\/ce0eda6d8fbee7c043c0a2e79cd57004","name":"Miranda Popkey","image":{"@type":"ImageObject","inLanguage":"en-US","@id":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/#\/schema\/person\/image\/","url":"https:\/\/secure.gravatar.com\/avatar\/1f51b33ebf285792e2ca73a336aa4dc2e389805f5d955d83ab113d48937695f0?s=96&d=mm&r=g","contentUrl":"https:\/\/secure.gravatar.com\/avatar\/1f51b33ebf285792e2ca73a336aa4dc2e389805f5d955d83ab113d48937695f0?s=96&d=mm&r=g","caption":"Miranda Popkey"},"url":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/author\/mpopkey\/"}]}},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6720","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/62"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=6720"}],"version-history":[{"count":22,"href":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6720\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":131750,"href":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6720\/revisions\/131750"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=6720"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=6720"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=6720"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}