High School

Ninth Grade:
Big academic push this year. Gotta go for that college gold. As my dad keeps reminding me, “now it counts”. I try to focus, but everything is a shiny object. Interesting as geometry might be, my imagination has much more captivating scenarios. What if my friends and I went downtown to Chicago, only to get mugged upon arriving? Well, naturally I would use the element of surprise to punch the gun out of his (or her) hand, tie him (or her) to one of the seats on the El, and we would all go for celebratory Dunkin Donuts. Suddenly: “and if you multiply the convex angle by twelve degrees, you would get your total of one hundred-eighty”. So goes my learning process.

English is the one class I find I can stay out of my own head in. I believe that was the weirdest sentence ever created right there. But it’s true. From Odysseus’s perilous journey across the world to Gene Forrester’s confusing journey of perspective, it all had value to me. Real meaning.
Freshman year felt like the beginning of my journey.

What makes someone a great writer?
A passion for words? Creative ingenuity? Enough free time? A unique voice? The ability to express life’s situations? A sense of humor? A sense of humility?

Word I can’t stop thinking or enjoying:
Artistic.

Tenth Grade:

Imagine a train wreck. Let’s not talk about tenth grade.

Junior Year:

It’s difficult to articulate my Junior year in more than phrases, so here it goes. A year of reflection and revision. Improving that GPA. Wearing sunglasses. Increased organization. ACT, not bad. Losing some bad friends. Discovering my interests. Didn’t come out on top, but doing okay.

English class is a separate timeline. My papers vary in their quality, and by default in their grades, but it has little to do with outside influences. It’s much more of an internal thing. But what that is exactly, I can’t say. Does it matter how well I understand the writing prompt? Or should I just keep writing my own understanding?

Early Years

I take a deep, shuddering breath. All eyes on me. Well, some eyes on me. A 5th grade class doesn't have the greatest attention span.


"James runs down the hallway, the bearded Australian chef hot in pursuit. James never thought the chopsticks he had once loved so much could suddenly be turned against him, now being used as weapons."

I glance up from my paper again, remembering the importance of "eye contact". The eyes that are staring at me are all stunned with penetrating disbelief. They want to know, just like I do. What am I doing up here?



Five Minutes Ago:

I approach her desk, no planning whatsoever.

“…Mrs. Graff?”

“Hi, Grant.”

“I was just wondering… I wrote this paper, at home… and I was hoping to read it to the class so that they can help me make it better?”

She gives me a strange look and I immediately stop kicking her desk.

“You wrote something… outside of class? Absolutely! I’ll make an announcement in three minutes, you should be up there in five.”



Seventh Grade:

This year, we read excerpts from The War of The Worlds, followed by a class project on how we would survive if aliens were to legitimately attack Earth. I think I’m ahead of the game.

I spend several hours laughing with my friends in the computer lab at the poetry we write. Ironically, this poetry is insightful enough that we are actually asked to read in front of the class.

The only other thing I remember is that we write on computers so old that the only way we can save our work is on floppy disks. I lose a great many papers. Did I mention this is an accelerated English class?



Eighth Grade, Just before I move out of my hometown forever:

Mrs. Goodman dies of cancer.



Who is Mrs. Goodman?

The teacher who asked us to read the poetry to her class.



Eighth Grade, New Town:

I try accelerated classes at my new school. Side note, why do they call them level four? That’s weird. Level four Algebra 1, Mr. Viator: “So if the spaceship is traveling around the earth at 450 miles per hour, and is accelerated by earth’s gravitational pull at a rate of 54.3%, how long will it take the spaceship to reach the sun? Do you know…Grant?”

I think I’ll walk across the hall. Nobody has checked on the level three class in a while.