Learning. Leaning. Yearning. A strong urge grips my emotions and won’t let go; my attention is held taught by the tethers of imagination. A goal. A hope. My desire.

“I’m bored.”
“When is class over?”
“Is she finished blabbing yet?”
“I want to go home.”

--Fruitless complaints conducive to neither the careless nor the caring.

“Your mind is an empty box, feed it with food, fill it with the foundations for life.”

Even as eyes begin to roll, as minds begin to wander, I see the wisdom.

“So, who is your least favorite teacher?”
“No, I can’t stand her, I hate that class.”
“We never learn anything interesting.”
“Who Cares?”

I don’t have a favorite or a least favorite teacher. As long as they care about what they’re trying to teach, I enjoy the class. I’m not bored because I care about what I’m learning. Learning skills for a possible career. For curiosity’s sake. For life.

Transcripts show classes retaken for no apparent reasons.

Ninth grade: an opportunity to take Japanese places itself within my reach. Though the class is mainly learning from computers, with a live instructor once a week, I decide to take it. A year is spent enjoyably learning about a culture and language wildly different than anything I have ever known.

Tenth grade: a new school brings the worry of limited language opportunities.
“Yes, as a matter of fact, we do offer Japanese.”
Safe. I am saved.

Japanese II, day one. I am ruined. Too far behind, I realize that what I learned from the computer was incomparable to the knowledge held by my fellow classmates. Another chance, another opportunity. Though I worry that it will look odd to colleges, I decide to retake Japanese I. Teaching English in Japan is an appealing possibility for my future, and I decide that a solid foundation in Japanese is worth more to me than the harm that odd transcripts might one day do.

A fallen tree leans against a cascading waterfall. Broken limbs stretching like open arms, trying desperately to drink the key to survival. Pressed by a yearning for more, the sapling begins to attain its goal, but still it wants more.

more more more more more more more more
Wracked by a desire to obtain. To grow. To succeed. An itching, burning sensation crawls up my spine, one vertebrae at a time. I feel the need. I feel the want.

Frustration. Every lunch I feel the same frustration.

Out in the trailers, “will you help me?”
In the dining room at home “will you help me?”
My mind, screaming, “I don’t understand, why? WHY?”

I don’t get it, math has always been one of my strengths. I’m always in the advanced group. I can easily get an ‘A’. Why? Math Analysis cannot be this difficult. Why do I struggle every day to understand? Why am I barely scraping by with a ‘C’?

One day, walking out in the cold, the wind striking my face with its icy breath, it hits me. I found it, I’ve found the answer! I’m at a new school, perhaps the algebra II curriculum here is different than what I was taught. A possibility. A chance to understand. A hope that it will all make sense.

Deciding to go back to algebra II for the second semester, I feel elated.

“You’re making the wrong choice.”
“A ‘C’ looks better than a dropped and retaken class.”
“You’re lazy”
“You’re leaving your friends.”

Echoes. Echoes. Echoes. The words of my friends instill the slightest bit of doubt in my mind, but I stick by my choice. I look forward to the chance of understanding. A chance, yes, I am taking a chance. Perhaps I won’t get into the college of my choice, but an understanding of something I like is worth more to me.

I have a goal. I have a hope. I have a desire.

A want.
A need.
Understanding.
Learning.
Understanding.