Used to be that weekends were my refuge, my resting place, my recharge station
When did they become the other? Filled with mysteries, I obsess to solve in my head letting thin slimy threads slip out now and then
Used to be that evenings, I couldn’t wait for, bouncing the minute that key jiggled in the lock, a puppy awaiting her owner
When did they become a dreaded period? hours immersed in fears I can’t escape. A constant state of restraint from my desires.
Sonia Chintha is an Indian American writer who lives in the Washington DC area. She blogs, writes poetry, and fiction. She is also an English teacher who believes that our experiences teach us more than any test. She is the founder and co-editor of Good Little Girls.
She used to think she– She was the glue that binds them, Instead without her, They glow with freedoms, she never could witness.
Since it’s January and every year around this time I reclaim it all with giant hot-air balloon sized dreams and goals. Since a close friend
Standing in front of my students, my heart beats with the rhythm of the classroom: clock ticking in strained rotation, papers rustling through thick binder
Yesterday a colleague questioned my informal style of communicating with the parents of my students. (I address parents with their first names in emails and