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dylangoodacre · 7 years

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{The} Teenager Chronicles • Part Three •

The “Kids Zone” was a new addition to the fair this year. There were the plastic, white tables and chairs that they had all over the place but now they were in a special robed off area. There were more corn hole games and a dunk tank and even someone selling pop and popcorn just for the kids. It was secluded and probably boring, and you couldn’t really hear the music or look at the area where all the cool high-schoolers were, but it was nice. It was simple and not crowded and it was the place where Dylan sat by herself and ate her second helping of pirogies for the day. She put ketchup on them which the guy who sold them to her said was weird, but that’s how she’d always eaten them so she shook it off. A boy from the middle school was sitting in the dunk tank and he’d talked to her, but other than that, a majority of her age population was by the “25 & Alive” tent, karaoke-ing, talking, and probably getting frisky behind the old fire station.

“Dunk tank! Four balls for four dollars!” The bug-eyed middle schooler shouted, “Come on, Dylan! You know you want to throw some balls!” “I really don’t, Quincy!” Dylan said with her mouth full. “Yeah you do! Rhett showed me the other day! You gotta have some powerful swing in your arm the way you hit Greyson!” Dylan frowned, shoving her plate from in front of her, “What are you talking about?” “The Fossssters,” Quincy teased, “The whole school saw you crying like a baby! Oh, and punching your brother ‘cause your parents are in jail forever! I mean, they killed two people! They should be in jail forever!” “Shut up,” Dylan stood up, instantly beginning to cry, “Shut up!” “Yeah, if I don’t are you going to hit me?” “I’m--I. You--” Without thinking of much of anything, Dylan rushed over to the dunk tank, dunked the boy and yelled, “Screw you!’ before hurrying all the way home.

For the amount of police officers there were at the fair, none of them really saw anything. They helped traffic and had their own little first aid booth near the bands, but other than that, the cops were clueless. If you walked really far to the right of the fair even past the big slide and the one church, it smelled like weed. There was a picnic pavilion sort of area by a parking lot where young stoners had been getting high since the beginning of time. It was ironic that it was just beyond the churches property, but then again, everything in Brooksville was funny one way or another. Coughing, Isaiah grinned as he passed the final bits of a blunt to his classmate, squirting eye drops in his eyes before making his way to the fair area. He wanted everything that was greasy and gross tasting. He also wanted to make out with someone again, but his salty food craving was surpassing that other desire momentarily. After consuming a full order of fried veggies, an elephant ear and three fried Oreos, Isaiah made his way to the DJ area next to the old fire station. His same stoner classmate bumped knuckles with him, showing him a video of a girl sucking him off in a rusty looking place. It was apparently the new, hidden make-out area on the basement level of the fire station. It was an old jail cell and you could sneak into it and have privacy easily. Isaiah wasn’t a fan of cobwebs or possibly being caught during a hook-up, but he was a couple joints and drinks into the night and felt a little bit like anything was possible.

“Isaiah, they showed clips of you skinny dipping last episode,” A big-breasted, senior girl, Nina, said, draping her arm around his neck, “They blurred out the good parts though.” “Ha-ha, Neen, very funny.” “I’m serious!” They were standing in a decent sized group of juniors and seniors, all of which were either high, drunk or both, and had a reputation of being the cool, party kids, “You’re coming over Jessica’s later and we’re going in the hot tub.” Isaiah’s eyes were glazed off but he smirked, “Alright, babe, alright.” Seconds after, Nina’s lips centimeters from Isaiah’s neck, a fight broke out and all Isaiah caught was Brooklyn wailing on a kid with both fists, screaming over and over again about how he loved Noa, and Isaiah felt like he wanted to puke up all his fair food. “Daammnnn,” Nina laughed, “What the hell’s his problem?” Isaiah noticed Noa from across the street, disheveled and alone, but didn’t hesitate too long before taking Nina’s hand and heading for the jail cell, “Who cares?”

The fun house and the mini dragon roller-coaster had been a part of the fair for as long as it existed. Maybe not really, but for most of the residents that’s what it seemed like. The roller-coaster was small and creaky and went in circles. The fun house was long, a few steps up, but boring. Still, year after year, the new generation of small kids flooded to the two rides, hitting up the cotton candy stand and tiny ferris wheel afterwards. Koby stood awkwardly in the center of it all, watching as two twin boys and their parents braved the fun house. Koby was waiting for some of his other housemates to get there, and in the midst of it all, he’d instinctively ended up where he would’ve taken his siblings - by the kiddie rides. He missed them a lot, and as much as he tried to not talk to Waverly about them, he couldn’t help it. Koby’s life up to that point had been centralized around his younger brothers and sisters. He was used to being the man of the family and taking care of his pride, and now, well, he was just a sixteen year old kid trying to get by.

“Emilio! Be careful!” A mother scolded, shouting for her curly, black-haired son as he ran full speed towards the fun house, “Emilio!” Accidentally, the little boy barreled into Koby, and he let out a reflective grunt. “Ay dios mio, Emilio, apologize!” The mom pleaded, standing the little boy back up on his feet and wiping off dirt from his knees. “Oh, no, it’s okay,” Koby smiled, “It happens. I have seven siblings back at home so I’m sadly used to it.” The mother smiled and took a few steps forward toward the fun house before turning back to Koby with worrisome eyebrows, “I don’t think they’ll let me take him in the fun house,” She gestured towards her stomach, “It says no pregnant women.” “Mm, congrats! And don’t worry about.” He gently ruffled the little boy’s hair, “I’ve secretly been dying to go explore it anyways.” Reaching in her pocket for some cash, the mother beamed, “You are an angel!” “I’m not at all actually,” Koby admitted, “But thank you, thank you. Keep your cash. Uh, can you just promise me one thing?” “...Okay?” “...Keep being a good mom. There’s lots of kids in the world with really crappy ones.”

Some girls really dressed up for the fair. Others didn’t. Some straightened their hair while others curled theirs. Some wore heels for the nighttime and some were casual in sweatshirts and sweatpants. Avalon was a happy medium. She’d perfectly flat-ironed her hair pin straight and applied lots of makeup that still gave her a natural look. Her lips were glossy and pink and her eyeshadow was light but sparkly and she felt good about herself. This was something like Avalon’s fifth or sixth fair, but the day after the festivities she would be turning sixteen and that was a big step in any teenagers life. Sixteen brought driving, getting a job, new responsibilities, and finally stepping into the senior division at dance. It brought bigger upperclassman parties, and being considered just a little bit cooler than any of the fifteen year olds around. Anxiously, Avalon pulled at her white crop top and sat down next to Birdie and a few of the other girls and guys in her grade. A couple guys were tearing at a funnel cake together and when one of them blew some powdered sugar the girls way, Avalon put some on her hands and rubbed it on the boys cheeks. It was messy, but it was flirty fun, and then the street lights turned on and the sun set at the fair.

“Avalon Shaffer if you don’t go make out with Dallas right now I am going to punch you so hard in the boob you’re not going to know what hit you!” “Yeah I will know what hit me! You punching me in the boob,” Avalon smart-talked back to her best friend, Mia, “You just said you were going to hit me.” “Oh...my...God,” Mia was standing in the tiny, girls bathroom in the old theater, reapplying Avalon’s lipstick and mascara and trying to convince her bestie to lock lips, “Just go do it!” “Dallas is too cool for me!” Avalon shrieked a little too loud. “Dallas liked Kylie before and she’s lame, okay? You’re way cooler and he’s such a good dancer and, I’m crying, your babies are going to be blonde Asians!” “Mia!” Avalon slapped her on the shoulder, “Shut up!” “Then go do it!” “Fine!” Avalon shoved her iPhone in her over the shoulder purse and scurried down the steps, out of the theater, and over to the back of the fire station where all the boys and girls were playing their rendition of “Seven Minutes In Heaven,” but in the woods. “Hey!” Mia yipped, out of breath as she addressed the group, “Where’s Dallas?” “He already went to hook up with Logan.” Mia turned to Avalon and mouthed, “What?” “...Oh,” Avalon crossed her arms over her chest, giving a fake smile to her best friend, “I didn’t...I didn’t want to really anyways. I. I don’t like him that much, so.”

#sp

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sundaymomma-ing · 6 years

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My daughter completed her annual testing this week. As a homeschooling family the state requires us to evaluate our children each year to ensure they are “on track”. This was a stressful thing for me. Yes, for me. Not for my child, she was not worried about anything aside from spelling. She appeared confident and unconcerned about being asked random questions about topics we may or may not have even discussed over the past twelve months. I, on the other hand, felt as though the results of her test were really evaluating me. Am I providing the right learning opportunities? Am I doing enough to help her learn to divide? Am I putting enough emphasis on the right subjects?

The days leading up to her test were stressful for me. I couldn’t exactly get my head around it, why was I placing such value on the results of her test? It was ridiculous, after all we are unschoolers. A manner of leading children in a more hands-off approach, allowing them to learn the things they are interested in and trusting that they will learn all of what they need to grow into exactly who they are meant to be. As an unschooler, why on earth was I giving this test such a place of importance? I could not answer that question and so I sat with it.

It wasn’t until the testing had come and gone and I was having a conversation with my husband that the reason came out. I was telling him the results of her test and talking through what she excelled in and where there was room to improve. I rambled on about curriculum I could use to help her with this or that. I wondered aloud if we should evaluate for dyslexia. I talked about opportunities to start earning college credits…have I mentioned she’s nine years old? I had been sucked into the system. One test! One hour, once a year in a friendly, non-threatening environment with a kind woman who tells my kid the test is a “game”! And I was now concerned with college credits, spelling workbooks, sixth grade level math… How the heck did that happen?

My husband and I continued our conversation and good came of it. In my head I have been going over what I want for my kids, Nowhere on that list is “going to a prestigious university” or “getting their doctorate”. I know how important it is to be able to use the English language, to write well, to be well spoken, but is mastering it more important than instilling a love of nature? I realize they will need to understand basic (and complex) math concepts to use their creative minds to the fullest, but is long-division more important than guiding a heart of service? Can I say out loud, in front of everyone that I believe letting my kids simply play for more hours than they school, is teaching them greater life skills than they could ever learn if I tried to sit them down and teach them these things? I think I just did…

It is scary to go against the norm. It is intimidating to know that I am doing life with my littles differently than most people. It can be stressful to to go against commonly held beliefs. Though, when you have found your people and you exist in a group of families learning in similar ways, trusting this natural desire and ability to learn, it is easier to go about your business. Day to day I don’t feel the anxiety because I have women who lift me up and trust that I am doing what is best for my kids. I see these same women doing these types of things with their families, maybe they even unschool more or better than I do, I can see that it is working in the brilliance of the littles around me when we get together. Having the people makes all of the difference, it rights my perspective. When we are alone in our weirdness we feel it more strongly, but when we have friends in our crazy we find peace there.

Sheer drop off, a hundred feet down to the rushing river…perfect!

In the time talking with my husband he said some really awesome things to me. He had even sent me a text earlier in the day which I saved because his words were perfect and gave me rest. While spelling and being able to memorize math facts are actually pretty important to him, he placed no value on the results of her test. He didn’t tell me we should be doing more spelling words or ask why I don’t have an actual life science text book. Instead he reminded me that the children are creative, that they are inventive, that they are kind. He pointed out their goodness and brought up their abilities. More than this, he reminded me why we choose to homeschool, and probably without meaning to he reminded me why I unschool.

I suppose this testing problem extends past me, I know public school families who opt out of the annual standardized testing at their school because they realize that one day out of the year can not fully show all the knowledge their child has. I had never looked at it from the teachers perspective though. Do those public school teachers feel like I did on test day? Do they know how amazing the children are but question if they themselves have done justice in teaching them the information that the powers-that-be say the kids should know? Do the educators feel as though it is more so an evaluation of their ability to teach, than of the students ability to learn? I wonder if that is where the “teaching to the test” mentality came from. Now, I know there’s more to it than that, but could it be an original piece of the puzzle?

A few days have passed since our test was taken, my daughter has completely forgotten the test and has already asked how long we’ll be working in this cursive/spelling workbook, (insert pre-teen eye-roll here). I honestly don’t know, I get distracted by projects around the house too easily; letting them make salt-dough, helping them learn to cook dinner, reading them endless chapters of fantasy novels… While these things are definitely not school, there is a lot of learning going on. I suppose I’ll work to find that ever-elusive balance. Just the right amount of textbook, just the right amount of playing in the snow. They are little after all, and I don’t long for them to be normal or average.

In creating the life we now live, I realize that my children will know a lot of things that their schooled peers may not. As an example; my three year old asked if we could “have a conversation about doin’ math” the other day. She’s trying out a new word and wants to sit at the table for school time with her siblings. It was pretty adorable. But I also know that they won’t know the exact things that those public schoolers know either. There is no self-driven interest in learning about the specific states in the U.S. in my kids, though this is a common third/fourth grade activity. I have given them multiple books, activities, and puzzles on the topic. They only do those activities when I remind them and because they “have to” to be “done” They are not going to remember that Kansas’ state flower is the sunflower, because they could care less. Additionally I know that my kids may never learn some things that their peers do, but that doesn’t matter. If they become interested in the way a light bulb works we can deconstruct a few, check out some books at the library, watch some Youtube videos. Information is only a Google search away.

We don’t have to force uninterested learning, even if that means they don’t pass a test. Can’t we look at the whole child and their development as a person over the past year? I think we should, I think it is in fact better to do so. This morning I sit in peace with where my kids are at with their learning. I’m thankful to have had this week to reflect on how things are going, both with my leading and with their learning, it’s been time well spent. I can look ahead with new ideas to share with my little people, and a fresh perspective on where we are on our journey. Knowing that they are exceptional, that they have great capacity to learn, and that they are always learning is what I will take away from that hour of testing. Not a score, or a mark of failing or succeeding-for myself or my child. We are learning well, and I am very thankful to be able to learn together with them.

Evaluations My daughter completed her annual testing this week. As a homeschooling family the state requires us to evaluate our children each year to ensure they are "on track".

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packernet · 7 years

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New Post has been published on http://www.packernet.com/blog/2017/03/24/nfc-north-roundup-detroit-lions/

NFC North Roundup - Detroit Lions

2016 Season Summary

Very little was expected of the Detroit Lions in 2016. Going into the season, the question came down to whether the Packers or Vikings would win the division. Through 5 games the picture started to become clear as the Vikings won 5 in a row and were looking unbeatable. The Vikings, however, went on a losing bender only winning 3 of their next 11 games.

The Packers were 4-6 through the first 10 games and looked to be in full implosion mode.

The Bears were fulfilling their expectations with a 3 win season.

All the while the Lions, while not having a great season, seemed to be the only team in the division not completely falling apart. After a 5 game win streak, it started to seem as the Lions were going to take the crown of divisional champions for the first time since 1993 (Side note: The Buccaneers won the division in 1999).

Fortunately for us all, the Lions did what they have become famous for, they completely wrecked their bed by losing the last three games. The packers, of course, had a hand in it by winning out their last 6 games of the season and taking the crown right off their head.

In the end, the Lions went 9-7, squeezed into the playoffs thanks to a Redskins loss, and got wrecked by the Seahawks 26-6.

Offseason

The Lions have made quite a few moves so far this offseason but are pretty much capped out. Literally. According to Spotrac, if you include the money needed to sign the draft picks they accumulate, the Lions have about $4M left to spend.

Signing so far

Darren Fells, TE, Cardinals

Although an upgrade over Ebron who has been a monumental disappointment, Fells is, by all accounts, a subpar tight end.

D.J. Hayden, CB, Raiders

I have no idea what the point of this was. The Lions have a pretty decent combo at corner with Darius Slay and Nevin Lawson. They currently have plenty of depth (bodies, not so much talent), and didn’t do anything to improve on that depth. Hayden was ranked 97th by PFF. To put that in perspective, Quinton Rollins was ranked 86th.

Jordan Hill, DT, Jaguars

Jordan Hill is another strange signing. Although the interior defensive line was a disappointment, even after signing Haloti Ngata and drafting A’Shawn Robinson, Jordan Hill is currently ranked as the Lions 4th best interior defender according to PFF.

To be fair, he was injured for most of the year last year which may be the bigger issue with Hill. In his 4 years, Hill has played no more than 13 games and averages 7.75 games per year.

T.J. Lang, OG, Packers

The Lions best signing was that of our good friend T.J. Lang. I’m not being biased I actually have numbers to back it up. According to PFF, Lang is the best player on the ENTIRE TEAM! Number 1. Top guy.

If you can’t beat ’em, steal their players. They must be talking with the Vikings.

Akeen Spence, DT, Buccaneers

I’ll be honest, I have never loved Ted Thompson more than right now. What in the world is this team doing??

Akeem Spence was ranked as the 124th best defensive tackle in the NFL last year. As it stands, he is not only their worst defensive tackle, he is the second worst player on their entire team.

Ricky Wagner, OT, Ravens

The Lions front office must be heavy drinkers. That said, they’ve done pretty well along the offensive line. The signing of Lang was a massive upgrade and the signing of Wagner gives them a solid tackle pairing.

If they are able to upgrade the disgrace of a guard in Glasgow, they might have a very formidable offensive line in 2017.

Paul Worrilow, MLB, Falcons

The Lions worst player is 2016 was Tahir Whitehead. Injuries at the position made him the lone MLB and that was pretty devastating. At number 86, Whitehead was the second worst starting linebacker in the entire league.

Worrilow isn’t fantastic but they surely could use the help. Still, trying to fix your linebacker group, which was decimated by injuries, with a guy that was out a large part of the year in 2016 with… an injury… is a little strange.

Unsigned

DeAndre Levy and Devin Taylor are still unsigned. Levy, to me, is a must sign. He was a nightmare for the Packers and with the need at linebacker I’m not sure how you let him walk. that said, they spent all their money on terrible football players meaning he may have to walk.

Roster Breakdown

I’ve already touched on quite a few players and positions but let’s take a closer look.

Quarterback

Matt Stafford. You all know who he is. He’s a pretty good quarterback. Not in the elite category but was ranked 9th by PFF and is probably a little underrated. Most likely it has something to do with his inability to pull it together when it matters.

Still, with the Packers issues at corner, Stafford is more than enough to worry about.

Wide Receiver

Since the departure of Calvin Johnson, the Lions haven’t really been able to find a true number 1. Marvin Jones and Golden Tate are average receivers, ranked 45th and 57th respectively.

Together with Stafford the Lions were able to put together a pretty decent passing attack but drafting a receiver is probably going to be a need sooner than later. Although I’m a Jared Abbrederis fan, I don’t think he’s the next Megatron.

Running Back

A more urgent need, I actually had the Lions taking a running back in my most recent mock draft.

Although Theo Riddick was ranked relatively high, the Lions ground game isn’t striking fear into the hearts of anyone. With the talent at running back this year it wouldn’t be the worst idea to upgrade the guy toting the rock.

Tight End

The tight end position is sort of a mess and is also an option in the first round. Although it’s painful to trade up in the first round to get a start tight end, watch him flop, and then do it all over again, the position needs an upgrade desperately.

Offensive Line

As I mentioned earlier, the Lions are sitting in a pretty good position on the line. With the exception of left guard, the Lions are pretty well set for the 2017 season.

Yes, Lamp is an option in the first round but it seems a little silly. There are far too many needs as well as a ton of options in later rounds.

Defensive Interior

Another complete mess, the defensive line for the Lions is simply no good. A’Shawn Robinson, once considered a solid pick for the Packers, was a complete bust in his first year with the team and it doesn’t get much better from there.

There are only so many rounds in a draft but I don’t know how the Lions don’t look to address this spot at some point in the draft.

Defensive End

Although he didn’t have an elite year by anyone’s standards, Ansah can be a pretty scary dude. He and Kerry Hyder made for a decent but not great duo.

Behind them is basically nobody. Although not a top need, the talent available at 21 might make DE an appealing option to the Lions in the first round, depending who falls to them.

Linebacker

Outside of Worrilow or a miracle, there isn’t much reason to be optimistic about the Lions linebacking corps.

Coupled with the issues on the defensive line, stopping the run could be an issue for the Lions.

Cornerback

As I mentioned, the corners in Detroit aren’t terrible. What I really meant by that was that Darius Slay was pretty good, Nevin Lawson is mediocre, and the rest would fit in on the Packers roster.

There really is very little depth in terms of talent and any team able to put more than 2 above average receivers on the field could cause problems for the Lions.

Safety

Maybe the best position apart from quarterback, the Lions have a really good pairing in Tavon Wilson and Glover Quin, both of whom graded out really well.

Similar to the Packers, however, there really isn’t any depth available so keeping them on the field is a must.

2017 Draft

As it stands now, the Lions will have 8 selections in the 2017 draft.

• First round: No. 21 overall

• Second round: No. 53 overall

• Third round: No. 85 overall

• Fourth round: No. 128 overall

• Fifth round: No. 165 overall

• Sixth round: No. 205 overall

• Sixth round: No. 215 overall (from New England)

• Seventh round: No. 250 overall (from New England)

Deciding on who the Lions will take at pick 21 is actually pretty difficult. Most of the players thought to be available and a good value at 21 aren’t expected to be around.

Reuben Foster and Jonathan Allen would be fantastic picks to help shore up the internal part of that defense but both are expected to be gone by pick ten.

Tight end could be the best play in terms of value and need but again, they have a first round investment and just paid money in free agency.

Some other options might be running back (Cook, McCaffrey), defensive end (Charlton, Barnett), guard (Lamp), wide receiver (Corey Davis, John Ross), Corner (Marlon Humphrey, Teez Tabor)

Looking Ahead

Looking at the rosters as they stand now, you have to like the Packers chances. The Lions have quite a few positions of need. A lot more than the Packers do.

With the weakness up the gut, an investment in a running back and a guard could go a long way in tormenting the Lions and wearing down their defense.

As far as the Packers defense, the Packer have to do better against the pass. They have quality safeties but the young guns have to step up and play better. The Packers would also be wise to add at least 1 talented corner in this stacked corner class.

Assuming the Packers hit on those areas, I’m really not too worried about the Lions. They might take a game this year but win the division? Not likely.

#Detroit Lions

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studiomaya · 7 years

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Introducing Meg

You know how little kids say whatever they want, whenever they want? They aren’t self conscious. They aren’t worried that the world won’t like them if they mess up.

I spent my elementary school years in and out of school. My parents were pretty careless about pulling me out if they were traveling, and sticking me back in when we got back. They liked to do their South Asian travel during the winter, which allowed them to miss monsoon season, but wasn’t really ideal for my school year. I really don’t think it mattered much, and maybe because I was in public school in New York City, I don’t think anyone at the school cared. I had some math workbooks that my mom picked up at the grocery store, and I did those off and on. I was pretty good at math and it was kind of fun to finish the books. And I read. I read and read and read. So whenever I got back to school and suddenly had to draw a bean plant and name the parts, or had to do long division on the blackboard, it was never a problem. And I was a real talker, so if we had to discuss poetry or a book, you could hardly shut me up.

In sixth grade, everything changed. My parents decided that I needed something more rigorous and that they would be more careful about snatching me out of school to go on long trips to weird places. I still went on some pretty strange trips, but they were a little less scattered, more concentrated during the summer and school vacations. My dad teaches South Asian history at the New School, my mom runs an antique shop, and both of them thought that it would be better for me to have more challenging schoolwork. They have some friends who somehow got me an interview at this fancy school on the upper East Side—not one of the crazy elite schools, but it was still posh, compared to what I was used to. I remember the interview well—I wore these dusty brown Doc Martens and cotton harem pants that I had made myself, and I must have looked a sight! The headmistress was almost like a cartoon character, she was such a type—poofy white hair, pink sweater, pearls—and thought I was hysterical. I found out later that I was getting a big scholarship. I don’t know whether it was because we couldn’t afford it or whether they thought I needed to be rescued from the perils of public school.

The kids were pretty nice but I had a hard time getting to know them. They did soccer together after school, or dance, or music lessons. They all knew each other, and their parents knew each other. My parents were not really in the loop on school, and since everyone lived all over the place, there wasn't a neighborhood you could draw on to meet people. But everyone was well-behaved, polite, and seemed to care about school and grades a lot more than they had at my old school in Greenwich Village. I knew that I wasn’t like them, but it didn’t bother me terribly. I wasn’t like the kids at my old school, either, and it had never caused any problems for me.

But things took a weird turn at some point that first year, when we were supposed to do a research report on a foreign country. It was an oral report, but we also had to put together some sort of illustrated brochure thing to turn in. I was super excited. I mean, this was my life. I had been to so many different countries, I could speak a few different languages, and dinner at home with my parents was all about which tribal motif was embedded in what carpet from which village in Afghanistan. This was my thing and I was so excited to share. And I was excited to hear what everyone else had to say. You didn’t exactly discuss foreign countries when you went out for recess. I don’t think anyone knew much about the stuff that lived in my head. The girls talked about pop music and movie stars, and I was okay with those subjects. The boys talked about sports, which I knew nothing about, but that was okay because anyway the boys and the girls were starting to separate and do their own stuff that year. Everyone knew that my family and I had traveled a lot, but everyone was so polite about it, as if it would be rude to pry. So I was thinking that standing up in front of the class would be my chance to tell everyone about things that were so important to me.

I remember what I wore the day of the presentations. I was doing Pakistan, a country where we had spent a lot of time, so I wore a shalwar kameez, which are these baggy pajama pants and a tunic and a scarf. It’s what girls wear in Pakistan every day—it’s not some kind of dress-up thing or special occasion get-up. When I walked into the classroom, everyone stopped talking and turned to stare. These were all kids that I had been friendly with since the start of school, kids that I ate lunch with and compared notes with during math class. I didn’t think wearing a shalwar kameez was such an earth-shattering thing, but everyone looked amazed. I started to feel a little funny. I heard one guy say to someone, “Is there extra credit for wearing a costume?”

I sat at my desk, flipping through my notes, but I wasn’t thinking about my presentation. I was suddenly thinking about the last time I had worn that shalwar kameez, running around the gardens of Shalimar in Lahore, surrounded by cascading fountains and apricot trees. I had a friend in Lahore, a much younger girl named Rihana, the daughter of one of the caretakers at the house where we usually stayed. I was always put in charge of Rihana so I had to make sure she didn’t do anything stupid, like fall into a fountain or slip and break her neck on the wet marble. She talked a mile a minute in Urdu with an adorable lisp, switching into accented baby English when I complained that she was going too fast for me to catch everything she said. I had not seen her in a couple of years and I wondered what she was doing. I thought of the sunset’s glowing reflection in the pools at the park, the evening call to prayer, and the scent of jasmine at night, which is always so much stronger than in the day, and to my surprise and dismay I could feel tears in my eyes. It was like being homesick, except that I was homesick for a place that wasn’t home.

I tilted my head back so that the tears wouldn’t actually run down my cheeks. I could see the other students milling about. The girls with their flat-ironed hair and perfect manicures and Ugg boots, the boys with their Under Armour and their crew cuts. The girl who sat in front of me was digging around in a Louis Vuitton briefcase. I suddenly felt quite bizarre, sitting in a classroom on the Upper East Side in my shalwar kameez. Maybe I’m exaggerating how weird it felt, looking back on it now. When I think about it, it’s like I’m floating above the class and looking at this one weird girl with her dark green tunic and pajama pants and frizzy red hair in a scrunchy, in the middle of a sea of perfect straight hair and Abercrombie jeans. I look so strange. And I think that was the first day, ever, that I felt as strange as I probably had always looked.

The first student to present her country was the girl with the Louis Vuitton briefcase, Alexandra. Her country was Egypt. I had been really looking forward to her presentation. I had a lot to say about Egypt—I knew Egypt really well. I even spoke some Arabic, although it wasn’t as good as my Urdu.

But as the presentation unfolded, I became increasingly dismayed. I think she must have lifted the whole thing from Wikipedia or the CIA fact book. Facts and figures galore and estimated GDP. A long, tedious discourse on the pharaohs and the pyramids. I bit my lip, trying to keep the expression off my face. How does anyone make pharaohs boring, I thought. Alexandra continued on, pushing back her smooth, blonde hair repeatedly with a practiced gesture. A sparkly bracelet slid up and down on her wrist.

After she had said the word “Muslim” and “Islam” about ten times, I raised my hand. Alexandra stopped speaking, clearly startled.

“There are Copts, too,” I began. I stopped. I hadn’t meant to stop her in her tracks, but I had feeling in my chest as if I would burst—and maybe she was getting to the Copts and wouldn’t mind some engagement with the class.

Alexandra shot a look at the teacher, who had retreated to the back of the room to listen and take notes.

“Copts,” she repeated.

“Coptic Christians?” I added helpfully.

“Oh. Right. Um, Christians in Egypt,” she nodded. She looked again at the teacher for help. The teacher remained impassive.

There was a silence. I felt eyes on me. I didn’t dare turn to see the expressions on the faces of my classmates. I knew instinctively that I had done something very wrong by speaking up.

But I couldn’t stand it. This was no introduction to Egypt, a country I had loved for as long as I could remember. Egypt was the land of pyramids, it was true. But it was also the land of so much more—Muslims and Christians, a huge entertainment industry that delighted the entire Arabic-speaking world, a Nobel-prize-winning novelist. It wasn’t this dry, boring place that she was describing, and if all you could say about the population was the name of the majority religion, you were entirely missing all the energy and conflict that made it such a dynamic, passionate culture.

“Thank you for your question, Meg,” the teacher said in a carefully neutral tone.

I felt sick. I had done something wrong, and I honestly had not meant to. Everyone was going to hate me now. At the same time, I felt angry. There was nothing wrong with my intentions. I wasn’t trying to make Alexandra look foolish, but she apparently didn’t have anything in her speech about the real Egypt.

My palms were sweating. I felt like I couldn’t move in my seat.

As other students got up one by one to give their presentations, I got to work on my own script. I had written it out in outline form on note cards, but I now took a pencil and started to draw lines through parts of my speech.

It was bad enough that I was going to have to stand there in a shalwar kameez. There was no way I was going to give the delighted description of the Lahore of my younger years that I had planned.

They would never understand the people are the heart and soul of a culture, of a country. They would never understand. I had to just try not to be laughed at, try not to upset the balance.

So my speech was shorter than planned. I started with a casual reference to my clothes and made a joke about pajamas. The class chuckled politely. Most of what I said was not actually written on my cards. I made up some facts and figures about population and chief industries, and then recited a brief history of the partition of India and the creation of Pakistan in 1947 from memory. I didn’t say a word about the labyrinthine alleyways of the market in Lahore, or the jasmine vines in Shalimar.

As I spoke, I looked around the room, but I didn’t see the faces. They were a blur. I could have imagined anything I wanted on those faces—disgust, contempt, amusement—but I don’t even remember them because I was just trying to get through the five minutes that I was standing up there in that outfit. Here’s something really strange—I could still smell jasmine. And I could feel my eyes filling up. I was sniffling and tossing my head because I didn’t want the tears to run down my face. I think maybe this would have qualified as some kind of panic attack, because I was imagining everything—the jasmine, the reaction of the kids, all of it. It wasn’t actually real. But everything, the emotions and the blurry audience, felt so REAL, and my stupid speech felt like something out of the dictionary.

There was polite applause when I sat down. My stomach still felt funny—when I get that angry, burning feeling inside, sometimes it feels weird in my stomach for days afterwards.

I actually got a B+ for that presentation. The weird feeling in my stomach came back when I saw the grade. I saw the brief comment on the front page of the brochure, something mildly critical about my artwork, before cramming the pages into my folder. I couldn’t stand to look at what exactly the teacher had said, but I am a pretty sucky artist, so I told myself that since my parents weren’t helping me to illustrate my work like the other parents did with their kids, I was obviously not going to get a top grade for that assignment. I buried the sense of disappointment and frustration, thinking that I was just glad to get out of that project without further embarrassment. No one had ever mentioned my Pakistani “costume” that day, and Alexandra remained carefully friendly, although she and the other girls remained a little too polite and a little too cordial—I knew that I wasn’t ever going to be their “type” anyway.

On my way out of the classroom on the day that we got our papers back, the teacher stopped me and waited until everyone had exited the room. He spoke kindly.

“You know a lot about foreign countries,” he said to me. I nodded.

“You’ve had an interesting life. You know much more than other kids your age.”

I nodded again.

“You know, some people study foreign cultures their whole lives.”

“I know. My parents—“ My voice suddenly choked on me and I stopped. I tried to clear my throat.

The teacher smiled and cocked his head. “You’re way ahead of most of the kids. But eventually you’ll be able to find people who share your interests. You’ll get there.” He patted my shoulder.

I really appreciated his kindness. And I understood what he was saying. That I was only weird—among my classmates. They were the normal ones, I was the weird one. I was going to be okay if I stuck to weird people like me.

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