Every year on the first day of school I always tried to grab the desk nearest the windows. I knew it meant that I'd be in charge of opening them in the event of a tornado drill but I didn't mind. What mattered was having a direct sight-line to the parking lot where I'd witness parents bustling up the sidewalk to deliver forgotten lunches. I'd have a close-up view of the weather as it shifted (sometimes hourly) from rain to sleet to sunshine to blizzard. Toward the end of the day I'd watch buses roll under a flapping American flag to wait for their rambunctious charges. That glass was more than a view of earth and sky; it was a window into my daydreams as I watched clouds crawl across the livelong sky of seemingly endless school days.
Don't get me wrong--I loved school. It was the place where I first fell in love with words, competing with Glen Burmeister and Keith Johnson as the only girl left standing during our weekly spelling bees. Reading and writing were my favorite subjects because I could lose myself in my imagination, which I often did, to the consternation of my teachers. "Doesn't work up to potential" or "Unfocused" or "Daydreamer" they'd write in my report cards. And it was true. I was often bored and that window was my salvation. But because I got good mostly good grades (I sucked at art and penmanship) my parents didn't balk that much. "Try harder," they'd ask, and I'd promise I would. But I didn't.
They always say you should write about what you know. Even as I tapped away at this post I stopped and started it several times, distracted by a bird on the wire, the sound of my neighbor yakking loudly in her driveway, then imagining that bird knocking the cellphone out of her hand. I suppose it comes as no surprise then that I gave my young protagonist, Grace Carter, the same penchant for losing herself in the world beyond her immediate surroundings. Because this? This I know.
What about you? Were you a daydreamer? Did you like school? Share your thoughts down yonder. ;)
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