Hey everyone! It has definitely been a while since I have posted anything on my blog. I was out all of June vacationing on the other side of the world and I am really happy to finally be back at home. On my earlier blog post, I explained how I entered a competition called Flip the Page: Central Ohio's Teen Literary Journal. I also told you I would post the piece I wrote. Well, here it is! My piece consists of two diary entries. While one is from the beginning of the year and the other from the end of the year, both describe my feelings about chemistry.
I am a Lucky Victim
8/20/13
The stingy smells of the remaining bits of clear ethanol burned my nose as I stood up to face the woman whose camaraderie really radiated in her emails over the summer. Although petite and fragile, I could already see the wheels turning in her brain, trying to think of ways to torture us. I already could picture the rolling of her eyes and the smirks from her face filling us with fear as my group and I tried to answer her simply abstract questions. We gave short answers trying to stay afloat on her good side. Her owl eyes were fixed on the whiteboard filled with scribbles and scratches from trying to fix our answer.
She sat longer waiting, analyzing, and pondering of the best way to point out the answer’s other miniscule imperfection. People say that time flies, but at that moment the silence consumed the five minutes of hopeless patience except for the sound of the grinding and squeaky gears underneath the heaping amount of curled, ginger hair.
Finally, she opened her mouth and the world seemed to end right there for me because she called on me next. Then, there was a question. The beast had been unleashed and had taken its first bite of raw, freshmen meat. Not showing any signs of weakness, I shot back a creative explanation with a bunch of unnecessary chemistry terms and she took the bait as she retreated back into her den awaiting the next lucky victim, table four.
She sat longer waiting, analyzing, and pondering of the best way to point out the answer’s other miniscule imperfection. People say that time flies, but at that moment the silence consumed the five minutes of hopeless patience except for the sound of the grinding and squeaky gears underneath the heaping amount of curled, ginger hair.
Finally, she opened her mouth and the world seemed to end right there for me because she called on me next. Then, there was a question. The beast had been unleashed and had taken its first bite of raw, freshmen meat. Not showing any signs of weakness, I shot back a creative explanation with a bunch of unnecessary chemistry terms and she took the bait as she retreated back into her den awaiting the next lucky victim, table four.
- - - - - - - - -
2/28/14
The sweet smells of the remaining bits of flowers which had escaped its doom in the liquid nitrogen soothed the butterflies inside my stomach as I stood up to face the familiar face. She was sitting cross-legged like usual with her tuft of ginger curls sitting comfortably on her head. She was thinking, but this thinking was giving me a very different vibe.
We gave our short answers confidently because we anticipated trivial questions like usual. As she sat there, analyzing, squinting, and trying to find an imperfection on our board, I did the same. I stared and analyzed her and felt a tingle in my body. This woman. This woman whose sight always made my heart pound as I walked through the congested hallways. This woman who always had hard facial expressions. This woman whose class was the only class that made me feel weak.
Now that I thought about it, she was not bad at all. I now realize she was only trying to prepare us for the teacher next door who taught AP Chemistry. I now realize she wanted us to think and choose our words carefully when presenting rather than having her spoon feed the facts. I now realize she graded her tests with the eye of a hawk because she wanted to deliver the message that there was always room for improvement. I now realize that these whiteboard sessions were her way of grading our intellectual capabilities. I now realize that I was starting to love her cunning questions, her arrogant smirks, her impossible tests, and her ginger rat's nest of hair. I now realize that I was lucky to be chosen as a victim to her many questions.
This revelation happened only 190 days after my first taste of this complicated, yet rewarding journey.
We gave our short answers confidently because we anticipated trivial questions like usual. As she sat there, analyzing, squinting, and trying to find an imperfection on our board, I did the same. I stared and analyzed her and felt a tingle in my body. This woman. This woman whose sight always made my heart pound as I walked through the congested hallways. This woman who always had hard facial expressions. This woman whose class was the only class that made me feel weak.
Now that I thought about it, she was not bad at all. I now realize she was only trying to prepare us for the teacher next door who taught AP Chemistry. I now realize she wanted us to think and choose our words carefully when presenting rather than having her spoon feed the facts. I now realize she graded her tests with the eye of a hawk because she wanted to deliver the message that there was always room for improvement. I now realize that these whiteboard sessions were her way of grading our intellectual capabilities. I now realize that I was starting to love her cunning questions, her arrogant smirks, her impossible tests, and her ginger rat's nest of hair. I now realize that I was lucky to be chosen as a victim to her many questions.
This revelation happened only 190 days after my first taste of this complicated, yet rewarding journey.
This piece was published in the Spring 2014 edition of Flip the Page: Central Ohio's Teen Literary Journal along with many other wonderful and creative pieces from local writers between the ages of 13 and 19. This can be purchased on amazon.com.
Copyright (C) Bookaroma 2014
