In middle school, I never was. On my firstday of sixth grade, walking the narrow halls, I was quiet. I walked downthe center, never moving out of anyone’s way because I figuredthey would. I had goals, objectives I marched toward, and as I marched,my thighs rubbed together. On some days it bothered me so much I’dtry to walk like a cowboy, but I’d never seen a real cowboy, sofor all I knew they didn’t exist. Even if they did, their purposeseemed as frivolous as the pre-pre algebra class I must have beenapproaching. In this moment I recall being focused on getting to mathclass and at the same time, finding ways to poke holes in my sweater.
Math was as pointless then as it is now, the main differencebeing that back then I could get away without doing homework, studying,caring and still get an A.
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