What I Did Not Learn In School
Each time we arrive, the rush of nature attacks my senses. Everyone seems so happy to exclaim, “What a beautiful day!” but I prefer wind and rain or snow, which gives me the permission to remain indoors or excitement to venture outside. On those days there are no phones, computers, or television. At my family’s cabin in the Blue Ridge Mountains, the absence of all distractions exposes my creativity and reminds me that I am a child; it scares me. Those are the days I remember vividly.
I resist going sometimes. There are other more “normal” things to do: homework, shopping with friends, catching up on “House of Cards.” None of the girls at my preppy high school drive dirt bikes or shoot their guns at empty cans on a fence. As I pull into the driveway after passing a hundred barns and a million cows, I cannot help but feel uncertain about what the day may bring. I am reluctant to do what I have done before, but confused about what to do next. Sometimes, however, even partaking in something mundane can lead to a new discovery.
I caught my first three …show more content…
Larger than a basketball, the angry creature reveals its pointed jaw and begins biting the air in preparation for battle. I remember when my biology teacher showed us videos of the prehistoric animal cutting a watermelon in half. Could not she have told us how to remove a hook from its mouth? I realize there are some things I must learn on my own. Relinquishing my pole is not an option, and cutting the line would admit defeat. I find the longest pair of pliers possible, but my multiple attempts prove futile as the turtle’s strikes threaten to slice off my fingers. But soon it begins to grow tired, and I am prepared. In one last combat, I pull the hook out of its wide jaw with so much force that I fall backwards. When I rise, it is gone. In my grasp lies the pair of pliers holding a bloody hook. The battle is finally
Each time we arrive, the rush of nature attacks my senses. Everyone seems so happy to exclaim, “What a beautiful day!” but I prefer wind and rain or snow, which gives me the permission to remain indoors or excitement to venture outside. On those days there are no phones, computers, or television. At my family’s cabin in the Blue Ridge Mountains, the absence of all distractions exposes my creativity and reminds me that I am a child; it scares me. Those are the days I remember vividly.
I resist going sometimes. There are other more “normal” things to do: homework, shopping with friends, catching up on “House of Cards.” None of the girls at my preppy high school drive dirt bikes or shoot their guns at empty cans on a fence. As I pull into the driveway after passing a hundred barns and a million cows, I cannot help but feel uncertain about what the day may bring. I am reluctant to do what I have done before, but confused about what to do next. Sometimes, however, even partaking in something mundane can lead to a new discovery.
I caught my first three …show more content…
Larger than a basketball, the angry creature reveals its pointed jaw and begins biting the air in preparation for battle. I remember when my biology teacher showed us videos of the prehistoric animal cutting a watermelon in half. Could not she have told us how to remove a hook from its mouth? I realize there are some things I must learn on my own. Relinquishing my pole is not an option, and cutting the line would admit defeat. I find the longest pair of pliers possible, but my multiple attempts prove futile as the turtle’s strikes threaten to slice off my fingers. But soon it begins to grow tired, and I am prepared. In one last combat, I pull the hook out of its wide jaw with so much force that I fall backwards. When I rise, it is gone. In my grasp lies the pair of pliers holding a bloody hook. The battle is finally