Meandering Reflections

The writing prompt is on students. What an interesting concept to think about; students and not teachers. I can’t think of any great students… maybe Timika, one of the few black students in my high school who was our class president one year. I admired her, she was strong and smart and disciplined, as opposed to me, weak-willed and addicted already to guys and drugs, failing out of school. I can’t think of any other students who cross my mind as being noteworthy. I can only focus on myself. The nerds I don’t remember, the jocks, good students of sport, I don’t recall. I generally remember being in awe of students who actually applied themselves, achieved great things like 4.0 GPAs and college scholarships, as I got sent away to 2 rehabs my senior year. I literally spent my entire senior year, save one month, in a long-term drug rehab. I didn’t start out that way, however. I was a straight A student until I finally succumbed to dreaded math, getting a B in 4th grade. I never had to try. I was born with innate smarts and athleticism so naturally excelled at everything I tried. So once I grew up a little, hit double digits, and things weren’t 100% effortless, my performance went down, in all areas. I was not driven by academics anyway. I was social, and loved movement, and music, rock music. I became a student of music at 11 years old, my induction came when my dad bequeathed my ears with Dark Side of the Moon. I remember being in my room with my best friend Jane listening to it feeling like my mind expanded to new heights with every song on that album.

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