“School Memories” Daily Writing Prompt Result from 8/26/13
I picked a day in Kindergarten, back when I lived in San Diego, when I first realized I was in love with letters, words and writing.
I went to a school that had little buildings for classrooms instead of one big building, and even the cafeteria was outdoor. (Wow, did Maryland suck when I moved, coming from a place like paradise?!) One little building was basically one room or two – split in half. On this day, the kids in my class were rambunctious – I guess kids always are! – and I remember my best friend at the time, Stacy, was coloring. I saw a poster on the wall that pulled several letters from the alphabet – which we had just learned in class, but my parents and grandparents had already taught me. I remember staring at the letters trying to figure out what they had in common with the other letters in the little group, and what made them different from the other letters in the alphabet. I stared for a few minutes – who knows what my teacher thought?! I studied the curves and lines, the color (red, I remember that clearly) and the images next to the letters: A for Apple, E for Elephant and so on. I only remember A’s and E’s images for some reason.
I sat down at my desk and attempted to write the letters on a piece of paper, “borrowed” from Stacy’s stack for coloring. I selected a red crayon, and I remember thinking I picked the color because it matched the poster. “If I’m going to solve this puzzle, I need the facts.” I said something similar to myself. I copied all the letters over and continued to stare. My teacher came over to check on us and I asked her about the letters. I told her I didn’t see why they were different and she just looked at me. “Honey, they’re vowels. We’ll learn about them soon.”
But when I got home from school I bugged my parents about these “vowels.” My mom just thought I was crazy, but my dad patiently attempted to explain them to me. He was attempting to explain this concept to a future writer, who a few years ago he had caught tracing letters out of books to form words. He was keeping the fire and love of writing going strong.
Whenever I write, I feel a passion pouring from my fingertips into my work. I can’t explain it without sounding slightly insane. My dad’s sister is a fellow writer and think she would understand. My grandmothers were both teachers, so I think they would understand too. But everyone else looks at me like I require a jaunt at an asylum.
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