Driving by

Whenever I go somewhere on that end of town, I often drive by my old high school. Just because.

I miss having small classes and getting to know my teachers well enough to become their Facebook friend. I miss having lively (and pertinent) class discussions. I miss that sense of community.

Everywhere I go, I try to replicate that experience, but that’s like trying to recreate an old friendship after years of separation and change. It’s just not the same.

Maybe that only happens once. Maybe I ought to be glad I made friendships worth reminiscing about in the first place. Or maybe I’m being silly.
 
My former teacher told me I broke his heart when I decided to accept a job elsewhere. But really, it breaks mine.

My brother and me at his high-school graduation on Thursday. I woke up at 4:45 that morning to go to work.

Talkin' nerdy

In response to Hallie’s vehement belief that my head will soon explode from the abundance of information I’ve acquired from all the classes I’ve taken lately, I counted all the first days of school I’ve had, and came to a startlingly nerdy figure: 30.  Did I also mention that my mom likes to tell her friends and aquaintances that I “love calculus”?  That’s only partly untrue, but embarrassing nevertheless.  Anyway, here are two of my most memorable first days of school: 

Kindergarten: I sat next to my new friend Yadi at lunch the first day.  However, things went downhill when she asked to have a piece of my Fruit by the Foot and I declined (I was hungry!).  So she tattled on me (karma).  Did the teaching assistant quietly and justly settle the dispute and have us appologize and make up?  Nope.  She sent me to another table to finish eating my lunch ALL BY MYSELF.  I was 5 years old.  How cruel! 

6th Grade: I looked super cute with crimped hair and platform flip-flops and totally conquered the first day of middle school.  But then I went outside to look for my ride (my sister) at the end of the day, and did not see her.  So, I decided to walk all the way home despite the humidity, but there was nobody at home to open the door when I came back.  Fortunately, my grandmother lives three houses down the street, so I left to visit her and to seek the benefit of air conditioning.  However, on the way there, I spotted my neighbor’s dog freely galloping around with neither a leash nor owner.  I was dealthy afraid of dogs at the time, so I sprinted to grandma’s house (in platform flip-flops no less), only to find that she wasn’t home either!  Hmph!  Anyhoo, my sister eventually came back home to find me sulking in my grandma’s backyard.  My uncle tried to make me feel better by saying I looked like Britney Spears (this was a compliment in 2001). Must’ve been my crimped hair.

Anyway, it turns out she went shopping and lost track of time, but said she did go to my middle school to go find me and even asked the principal if he’d seen me.  Needless to say, the principal tried to address the situation by going on the intercom and asking if there was a Jane Ma in the building.  The next day at school, my history teacher came up to ask me if “yesterday was a rough day.” 

Sisters.

Senior prom 2008 (sans crimped hair, of course)

(Originally posted July 12, 2010)

Tumblr > Xanga

I browsed my old blog from middle and high school to remind myself how awkard I was, and happened to come across this treasure. Before you read that little snippet below, here is an explanation:

I was kicked out of Mr. Arnold’s tenth grade English class early on in the school year, and that was probably one of the best things that’s ever happened to me. Mr. Arnold moved me up to Mr. Dahl’s IBMYP class — a class that shaped me as an individual more so than any other class I took in high school. I probably wouldn’t be at U.Va if I’d remained in Mr. Arnold’s class instead of challenging myself.

When I became a senior, Mr. Arnold found me in his class again, but this time for his IB HL English class. The first day started with the typical getting-to-know-you worksheet in which he asked us for our favorite book, among other things. Mine at the time was Shakespeare’s Hamlet, but Mr. Arnold and I also had a little chat about what happened sophomore year as the rest of the class listened on.

Mr. Arnold: I actually moved you up to Mr. Dahl’s class
Me:  I guess so.
Mr. Arnold:  He really is constipated, isn’t he?
Me: 
Mr. Arnold: I mean, is he going to kill his uncle, or is he not going to kill his uncle?
Me: (Realizing he was talking about Hamlet and not Mr. Dahl)  Oh!

(Originally posted June 5, 2010)