Mr. Mock

It just came to me out of nowhere, but I think his name was Mr. Mock. He was the gym teacher who made elementary school ten times more fun, especially for extremely playful kids like myself. Why would anyone want to sit around, study, and get lost in messed up thoughts when you could be

Greasy pizza

We were little kids who sat in the school cafeteria during lunchtime. The cafeteria special that day, as it was every other day, was pizza. I used to think that pizza was a big deal, but the school pizza really, really sucked. I had a friend from Botswana next to me and a friend from

Tune that I would’ve never chosen

I can’t believe I’m hearing this same old tune again. How long has it been, like twenty-some years? Is this what it’s like being old now? My, how I’ve grown… into something no less different. Blank eyed and coming of age, sitting in the car and looking out the car windshield; I once watched my

Closed classroom

When it began, I was just a timid girl with the weight of the classroom around me. Foreign faces and loud voices. I clearly couldn’t open up here. But your projects were interesting, Mrs. J, and you gave me a mission. I ran into the classroom the next morning with new ideas, and we tested

Trying to figure out thoughts and the meaning of life

Me… when i’m not in my bed, writing thoughts– if i’m in my bed blandly writing thoughts, but when I’m not in my bed writing because something happened that made me feel inspired to write thoughts, then, it appears– almost everything else is meaningless.

The smell of anxiousness

Bring back those anxious feelings of my childhood: the distinct smell of dry noodle mixture and seasonings inside the chemical smelling 80’s plastic lunch box. Bring back these feelings of isolation and fear of differences, the fear of rulers and authorities (teachers), and the fear of rules and systems that used to cage me within