Aw, really. I pretty much liked my hippie classroom; I would have been shy no matter where I was. Sure, I hated the twice daily "sharing circles" (according to my old report cards, which are written in purple ink in very loopy calligraphy and are all about 10 pages long, I tended to read during sharing circles--which was not seen as very social, but which I made up for by volunteering with the elderly). But, we spent some cool time "having groovy math and science experiences." We played Capture the Flag a lot and did Art Adventures. We roamed freely outside like packs of wild dogs. We sang--usually stuff by the Guthrie family (Arlo, Woody, and the little-know techno Guthrie, DJ Luther Luther). And, we were asked to write in our little journals constantly.
After a quick glance at a representative sample of my journals from those days, I can tell you that I used to make my exclamation points with little triangles over the dots. I can also tell you that my teachers were not paid enough to read my journals. They are extremely boring. Even I was bored, I fear, because I began each entry by calling myself something different: Dear Sparkle, Dear Miss Plenty, Dear Sparkle Plenty, Dear Journal Writer, Dear You Know Who, Dear Me. Exactly: Dear Me! Look: It's possible to run out of self-reflective commentary when you're 10, okay?
Here, for the benefit of all, I present a little anti-Santa essay that I wrote back in the day. When I wrote this essay, I didn't believe a word of it--perhaps you will note this in the opening disclaimer and my attempts at sarcasm. I believe that you might also detect a certain Marxist vein in this essay--I link this to my social studies teacher, we'll call him "Dude," who spent a couple of years working in factories. I know far too much about food impurity thanks to "Dude" and, to this day, I avoid certain canned goods.
Let the fun begin! Here, for your shock and awe, is my Oppressive Device Essay.
[On this first page, I am struck by the gigantic paragraph indentations. Whassup, young Sparkle? Also, looks like somebody likes to underline words!]
[You can't wait, can you? You're on the edge of your seat, aren't you? "Speaking of smell, that piney..." Look out, 'though, that sentence will break your heart. It's a fragment.]
[Good ol' Saint Hick? I don't smell sweet and sticky Christmas trees--I smell Mad magazine! Bonus Question: Is it wrong for me to still still be attracted to the term "still still"? I remember liking it back in the day--one "still" was never enough for me--but it's still still so wrong it can't be right. Sigh.]
[Uh, no. I never DID get tired of those "saccharin Christmas specials" and "stupid carols." And, as long as we've got a sharing circle going here, I need to confess something else. If I were to draw a Christmas tree and an elf, they would still still come out looking like the ones above. Sigh.]Okay. I'm off to have a sharing circle with myself and try to plot my next blog move.
