A Moment in Time

If you want to see my handwriting, here is a sample from 8 years ago. This is a journal entry I wrote during my first senior year for my second pass at Junior English. We were required to keep a journal of reactions to class material as well as certain number of “Free” entries that had no topic limitations. This was one of my Free entries that I later revised a bit, had my Senior English teacher review (I took both Junior and Senior English courses back to back my first senior year), and submitted to the school newspaper editor. I passed my Senior English class, but failed Junior English again even though I did a lot more work for the Junior class than for the Senior. That’s a story in itself. Since I was friends with the editor of the school paper, my final revision made it into the last edition of the paper – the last one the graduating class would see (the class I was supposed to have garaduated with had I not failed Junior English again.) If you don’t want to read my handwriting, you can read the typed text below it.

My teacher’s remarks are in green. He liked to underline things a lot too. I later used that last line as the title for the “article” that was published in the school paper and kept it when I put it on my old, hideous web site.

When the stress, the disappointment, the anguish, the reluctant surrender of joy to the will of another who sees success in another light, when it all comes down on one soul, a single soul that can only be alone in this, the pain that sends the mind into fits of confusion; the soul shudders and shakes with the body in the cold rain, and becomes one with it – a tear escapes to frolic with the raindrops and the pain mingles with a passing breeze of relief, a surge of happiness resurfaces to blend with the pain and adds to the confusion… there must be an end, a control.

The sun never shines on the same place twice – why should words fall on the same ears twice; why should they fall at all? Time changes the mind, but the mind can distance itself from time, so repeated words that pass from ears to a mind now distanced from time can be heard with more patience. Time is not important; it is merely another dimension that allows movement and change. The control is in the mind. When the present instant is the only time frame the mind is aware of, time will stand still.

The editor added an additional paragraph to wrap it up because I couldn’t come up with an ending since it had been several weeks after I’d lost the mood in which I’d written the original. It didn’t really fit to me, but I figured it probably fit with his interpretation. I still have a copy of that school paper, so I may scan it and add it to this entry.

As for the English classes. Well, we were required to write a 5+ page term paper in order to pass every English course. Well, I didn’t write one for my freshman English class and still passed. The Sophomore English course focused on speeches, and I could dodge that so I gave a half-assed speech to pass that class. I failed Junior English my Junior year because I didn’t write a term paper or do much else for work. I hated the teacher with a passion. I had a consistent 48 average in that class – pretty bad considering a 65 is needed to pass. But I had the highest scores of all of her classes on the mid-term and final exams. “No problem,” I thought, “I’ll take the lecture from mom. Take both English courses next year to graduate on time.”

Yeah, well, the second time I took that course, I had a really cool teacher, but I hated the journal assignments. I rarely had much of a reaction to anything – especially not the kind of reaction he’d like to hear about. So, I wrote “This Space For Rent” on the first page of my journal and turned it in that way repeatedly until the end of the first half of the year. He finally convinced me to write something for credit. My Senior English course had a journal requirement as well and I did the same thing only I never wrote a single entry other than the “Space for Rent.” I eventually buckled down a week after the draft for the term paper was due. I locked myself in my room and wrote out almost 5 pages. That’s all I had in me and I knew it wouldn’t be enough to turn in since it needed to be 5 pages typed, not handwritten. I turned it in anyway.

When I got it back, he’d torn it to pieces. I gave up. As pathetic as that sounds, I did. I didn’t bother revising it or turning in a final draft. And consequently, I failed again. I didn’t care. There were other things going in my life that I don’t have space or time to get into right now – my father’s accident, my computer being taken away, etc. I later found out that I would have passed if I had just turned in my rough draft again.

I did pass the Senior English course without a term paper or journal. Go figure. 😉 Actually, I suspect my coming to that instructor and asking for his thoughts on this piece during my lunch break might have had some influence on his decision to pass me. I rarely got to talk to him, but he seemed to like me. Anyway, I guess I should start telling more of my high school stories to fill in the gaps left here.

I’m actually embarassed by this piece, btw, so don’t think you have to tell me nice things about it. I was a typical, depressed teenager.