meanderings...
The First Day of Class
It even smells like back to school. Like pink watered down hand soap and cheap disinfectant. Fresh canvas backpacks and newly sharpened pencils are angled at attention, waiting to strike the page.
My teacher shifted her weight uneasily from one foot to the other. Although she spoke slowly, she tripped over simple words and syllables as if they were sneaky unexpected objects hidden in the sentences she had prepared. She was a new teacher. This was her first class. I wanted badly to give her a chance to shine in all of the glory that an art instructor should. It was akin to making a quick stop in the grocery store for a forgotten item. You get the fresh faced beaming young check out girl who proudly informs you that it is her first day. You smile back, hoping that she is quick. After ringing up your three items incorrectly, she calls for a manager key-turn override to start over. You appreciate the smile and politeness, but you hunger for the stone faced middle aged woman who could ring up a hundred items in five minutes while comatoseThe department head walked into the room to assist Ms. New Teacher. The elder woman was a teacher of mine semesters ago. I thought I couldn't stand her teaching style. She delivered an over abundance of information in quick spurts. "You'd better get your note pad and watch for the quiz," she'd say. There was never a quiz, but I walked away from that class understanding her point. Take in everything. All information is worth having. You never know when you will need it.
The First Day of Class
It even smells like back to school. Like pink watered down hand soap and cheap disinfectant. Fresh canvas backpacks and newly sharpened pencils are angled at attention, waiting to strike the page.
My teacher shifted her weight uneasily from one foot to the other. Although she spoke slowly, she tripped over simple words and syllables as if they were sneaky unexpected objects hidden in the sentences she had prepared. She was a new teacher. This was her first class. I wanted badly to give her a chance to shine in all of the glory that an art instructor should. It was akin to making a quick stop in the grocery store for a forgotten item. You get the fresh faced beaming young check out girl who proudly informs you that it is her first day. You smile back, hoping that she is quick. After ringing up your three items incorrectly, she calls for a manager key-turn override to start over. You appreciate the smile and politeness, but you hunger for the stone faced middle aged woman who could ring up a hundred items in five minutes while comatoseThe department head walked into the room to assist Ms. New Teacher. The elder woman was a teacher of mine semesters ago. I thought I couldn't stand her teaching style. She delivered an over abundance of information in quick spurts. "You'd better get your note pad and watch for the quiz," she'd say. There was never a quiz, but I walked away from that class understanding her point. Take in everything. All information is worth having. You never know when you will need it.
i'm so blown away by the way that you write and compose a story. i could read more of your journals for sure.
and when i do have it on my hip belt it's like i'm always coming up with all these different projects that i'm working.