What I’ve learned is alarming my insides and yet when you notice it in me, I flutter with pride.
Could I do it, genuinely?
Yes, I am good at it.
Yes I deserve it and man the reward seems high
But the cost
still feels higher
What I’ve learned is alarming: the platter before me, it sits, within arms reach,
untouched
catching my eye with every sun ray.
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.
Soloing around town, the wind spirals through her hair, lifts the bottom edge of her dress and her skin is alive. She had forgotten–this side
Behind me, they await and I strain my neck trying to fit into the frame I shift back standing at an awkward angle, mouth a
Because there are so many articles and blogs and conversations that are so filled with how awful it is to be a teacher today and
“We have to make a full tea set.”
“Okay, okay,” Pooja said. She dug deep into the soil to retrieve our clay. I waited patiently for her to show me her roll-and-bend technique to make the tiny handles for our teacups. We were artists, rolling clay into the tea cups to use for our pretend tea parties. We were hosts. We were sculptors. We were friends. I was her confidante. She told me about the boys who teased her for raising her hand in class. She confessed that she couldn’t wait to get her menses. She told what she thought that was. Her narratives made me feel more. More than six. More than a measly first standard student. When we were together in public, I carried myself taller, like her, chest out, spine straight.