Marker, colored pencil Yincheng Qian, 12Dallas, TX
December 2020
Moods of the Week
On Sunday, I feel happy because I have nothing to do but play. I sit by the computer and watch YouTube all day. I send yellow balls flying with my white-and-purple racquet, Then get out other strings—my violin from where I pack it. I never feel stressed and always get a good rest. I love Sundays, a day I have no tests. On Monday, I am tired; it’s the beginning of the week. More geometry, science. US history makes me freak. First though, at 7:00, is tennis practice in the morning— “SWING MORE POWERFULLY!” is a constant warning. My arm is so tired and all of my body wants to sleep. But it’s Monday and the whole school sounds like sheep. On Tuesday, I feel depressed. I have homework that’s due. I get more homework, which I have no clue how to do. To make matters worse, at 6:30 there’s math club. Then for dinner, I have to eat spicy sausage grub. I go to my room and watch some online tutorials. It’s Tuesday, and I still can’t understand factorials. On Wednesday, I am free with nothing after school. I eat M&M cookies, then splash into the pool. My homework today is easy and quick, So I go to HEB with dad, and strawberries I pick. At home, with nothing to do, I don’t get bossed around. I love Wednesdays because I never break down. On Thursday, I am tired; I have tennis once again. I run around the green, returning balls and hoping I’ll win. I lose all my energy for the rest of the day. I really don’t want to write another essay. Can’t the teachers stop cramming in so many tests? All I want on Thursdays is to Have. A. Rest. On Friday, I feel okay—the tests are finally at their end. The bell at 3:55 will make it start to feel like the weekend. Before that, noodles, goldfish, and berries will get me through, Just as long as no one packed me a cashew. I trudge down the halls—this feeling only lasts for a while. Fridays are okay because at least I will smile. On Saturday, my mood changes, I end happy but start sad. I start off with Chinese. Everything makes me look bad. But after I finish, I am glad to have nothing to do. Sometimes I go on the balcony and just look at the view. I once again end up watching YouTube all day. On Saturdays, I sometimes even go outside to play. Carolyn Lu, 13Katy, TX
Editor’s Note
My first day of English class, sophomore year of high school, I walked into a classroom dark except for a single candle flickering on my teacher’s desk. He stayed quiet, writing, as we all filtered into the room, nervously laughing and whispering to each other. Eventually, we took his cue and began to write too. This teacher, Mr. McGraw, soon became my favorite—because he gave us the freedom to explore language and literature in the ways that most inspired and invigorated us. In his class, I labored over poems, researched the Brontë sisters, and explored symbolism in The Scarlet Letter. I am still grateful for the space he gave me to learn and write how I wanted to. Teachers have a huge impact on our lives— hopefully in positive ways but also, frequently and unfortunately, in negative ways. Most of the stories and poems in this issue take the classroom as setting and subject, examining the ways that teachers and schools influence who we are and what we do. I hope you take this as an opportunity to reflect on the teachers who have nurtured your passions!
