I remember when I was 5, the first time I went to a building daily for 8 hours. I sat down on the cold blue chair. In front of me was a bin of crayons, all the colors of the rainbow: red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and purple. I remember sitting in the cold room and having the freedom to draw marks on my blank sheet of paper. The dye scratching against the table, colors spreading across the canvas like the sun, rising in the early morning.
Then, there was arts and crafts. I remember the snip snip of scissors, the popping of marker and glue caps, the opening and closing of drawers. “Look, I made a butterfly!”, or “”Check out my airplane”.
I smell the cookies, I taste the apple juice- the sweet treats of childhood. The excitement you have for snack time. The feeling of getting up and standing in a straight line, with a leader and caboose- completing a long queue of children. I remember walking down to the back of the classroom and getting your little package of happiness. …show more content…
The evening rounds of tag, being chased and screaming “TAG” and hearing, “I WAS PAUSED”. Going down the long green tube of plastic, and feeling the scorching hot sun on your skin.
Right now I am sitting in English class. I am 15. Things are a bit different now. Here I am sitting in the same 4 walls which I used to find liberating. But at this exact moment I am feeling a bit different. This room feels confining, restricting even. It hasn’t always been this way for me. But alas, here I sit writing a paper not feeling the euphoric feeling of creative expression. Although, I suppose this isn’t all
Then, there was arts and crafts. I remember the snip snip of scissors, the popping of marker and glue caps, the opening and closing of drawers. “Look, I made a butterfly!”, or “”Check out my airplane”.
I smell the cookies, I taste the apple juice- the sweet treats of childhood. The excitement you have for snack time. The feeling of getting up and standing in a straight line, with a leader and caboose- completing a long queue of children. I remember walking down to the back of the classroom and getting your little package of happiness. …show more content…
The evening rounds of tag, being chased and screaming “TAG” and hearing, “I WAS PAUSED”. Going down the long green tube of plastic, and feeling the scorching hot sun on your skin.
Right now I am sitting in English class. I am 15. Things are a bit different now. Here I am sitting in the same 4 walls which I used to find liberating. But at this exact moment I am feeling a bit different. This room feels confining, restricting even. It hasn’t always been this way for me. But alas, here I sit writing a paper not feeling the euphoric feeling of creative expression. Although, I suppose this isn’t all