Jordan’s first day at school improved only marginally. The nickname “Giraffe” was going to stick it would seem.
Ugh. What horrific luck, she thought.
But she and Alex had almost the exact same schedule (save Jordan’s choice of advanced math while Alex was in Volleyball). Furthermore, Jordan really had a good feeling about her new English teacher Mr. Johns. He was new to the school – not just to Jordan and he hadn’t taught but one year before this foray at BCS. He and his wife were from Oregon and she was a teacher in the younger grades.
They are SOOOO cute together, Jordan had thought as Mr. Johns introduced himself to the class and showed pictures of his family. As he had talked about what class would be like, Jordan perked up with curiosity. Apparently, Mr. Johns wanted his students to find ways to apply their writing in the real world and not just write for the sake of getting a grade in class. Assignments over the course of the year would be to write letters to loved ones or bosses or friends, submit poetry to magazines, enter state competitions, write for speeches at school, and create advertising lingo. Jordan had immediately wondered if she should show him the story about Mars she had been working on – could there possibly be anything in the real world that could be done with a story like mine?
But then she began to to immediately tell herself, It’s not even very good anyways. And really, I’m just writing it for myself.
Right there in class, Jordan had begun to talk herself out of ever sharing the work into which she had put so much time and energy – the work into which she had poured her heart – the work which had helped her stay sane as her parents went to war leaving her to pick up the pieces and figure out life as a 7th grader by her self.
No, she thought, my writing is for me and for me alone. It’s just so I can feel better. It’s so I can cope. It’s not for other people to read. And that’s that.