May 31, 2003
Whatever, I'm Mediocre, I Don't Care Anymore

In English, we have to write stories using at least 10 vocabulary words. It started out as a 2 page maximum, double spaced, but she didn't really care if it went over. Suddenly, it's down to a one page max, and anything over that won't be counted. So I managed to write a one page complaint, complete with the 10 words necessary:

I don�t know why I am writing this. It�s going to get a quick glance to check that I�ve used ten vocabulary words, maybe a one- or two-word comment at the bottom like "Whoa!" or "Good dialogue!" or "Interesting twist!" and then it won�t be read again. And though I�ve sat here for nearly an hour, immersed in this thing, trying to think of something to write about, I figure, why put that much effort into it? It�s ten points.

Ok, so it�s to practice vocabulary and such. But come on, trying to fill a single page with a handful of words that sound completely out of place and awkward in the reading doesn�t seem right. I guess you�ve limited it to one page because it saves you time to correct them, and I guess that�s why I feel these stories are sort of pointless. I don�t mean to probe your teaching style, but it makes me feel like you don�t really want to read them. Like all of my hard work has been snubbed, checked off as participation grade. An ephemeral "oh that�s neat" stick-at-the-bottom-of-the-pile type of essay.

I want to be a writer when I grow up (or a psychologist, but anyway.) So coming into this school year, I wanted to break into the journalism scene. To leave the confinement of organized, abhorrent classroom essays (see? That sounds awkward) in typical introduction-details-conclusion form, and write as I saw fit. My English goal was to get one of my essays submitted into... something � school newspaper, competition, what have you. I waited all year for the opportunity. Maybe I just wasn�t listening if you mentioned anything accepting submissions (besides LACE poetry, but I don�t do poems). I seriously thought that one day you�d read something I wrote, pull me aside, and say, "Hey I read your piece, and I thought you might like to submit it into this thing." And I would say, "Oh, well I guess I could do that," which would then render first place to me. Yeah, it was a lame and impractical wish, which I was gullible enough to believe in. Even so, I feel like I�ve really missed my target, seeing how the lapse of the school year has pretty much ended, and I�ve yet to hear of any writing competitions.

I think for these last few weeks, I�ll keep writing as I�ve been doing in my spare time (mainly during the twilight hours, which is why I�ve become somewhat of an insomniac), and turn them into you before school ends to see what you think. I�m not a really good writer, but like all my brother�s friends said: "You tell it like it is." And come on. They�re like, 20.

So I wrote that, I turned it in, and now I wait for a grade. I doubt she'll give it back, she rarely does. But I've already gotten a response: whatever, you're mediocre.

For about three days after turning it in, she said something along the lines of, "Oh, anyone who ordered one of the Lit. Magazines, you'll be getting them tomorrow."

And someone asked, "What's a Lit. Magazine?"

And she said, "It's for the talented kinderline [children] of the school. They can publish their poems and stories and artwork. It's very impressive."

"Did anyone in this class do it?"

"Oh yes, I chose a few of my select children to submit their wonderful work."

So the question of who was chosen was sent around the room, and two girls in the front said, "Oh, I turned in one of my poems."

I turned to Katie, who had read my essay a few days earlier, and said, "Well, I think I've got my answer."

She probably didn't know what I was talking about, didn't know the question, and most likely wasn't listening to the whole lit mag conversation at all. But man, it really bummed me out. I later explained to Katie what I was talking about, and she said that I could probably still join the thing, it's not like they could turn a student down.

But now that I've been rejected, it doesn't seem worth it. Like having your parent write to the principal to get you out of college sequence classes. Like making a big deal about wanting to choose the radio station in the car, having a frustrated parent say "Fine! Choose!", and deciding "...no, nevermind, go ahead." Because it wasn't earned and I get all guilty. I can't walk in the office and be like "hey guys, all your teachers send you here? yeah, i bitched until they let me in."

So now I'm not going to turn any writing into the teacher at the end of the year. She didn't directly say to me "I just don't think you're good enough" or anything of the sort. And I'm totally overreacting. Just because she didn't ask me to do the lit mag doesn't mean I should be taking it as a hint that "whoa you suck." But I do take it like that, because I do overreact. So I'm not going to make the effort of handing in a portfolio and begging to be recommended.

Rather, I'm starting some new things. Today I went for a walk and took pictures of things. A turtle, and an alien, and the Jacobs Ladder sign, and other things. Eventually I'll make a section of pictures I've taken, even though they suck. Photography would be neat, I think. So I'm gonna go for it. ...Ok, that's it. By new things I meant I took pictures for 20 minutes today. But hey. It's a start. I mean, I took a walk. This is a good sign, I'd say.

- Molly{2:55 pm}

back home