The Kids Aren't Alright ✓ | Peterick TeacherxStudent

7: Overhead Of The Aqua Blue

 I mention something called the day of silence. Some of the information I got from http://www.dayofsilence.org, I even directly quote it at one point. This is something that my school takes place in annually, and I didn't come up with it. but it's a great thing and if you want to know more about it, you can visit that link :))

I also mention a documentary called Louder Than A Bomb and I saw it in eighth grade and it was really good.

ALSO HOLY FUCK I SAW WEEZER AND PANIC THE OTHER NIGHT AND DALLON WEEKES IS A BEAUTIFUL CREATURE AND WE WERE IN THE PIT AND WE MANAGED TO MAKE OUR WAY TO THE SECOND OR THIRD ROW DEAD CENTER I WAS FIVE FEET FROM RIVERS CUOMO AND MY DAD ALSO CAUGHT BRENDON URIE'S PICK HELP

BLINK-182'S ALBUM IS ALSO SO GOOD

AND I STARTED LISTENING TO THE BROBECKS AND THEY'RE AMAZING

Anyways comment "Lauren needs to shorten her author's notes" if you read this.

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"Remember to drop your poems that are due today in the basket at some point during this class period." Mr. Wentz said when the bell rang. God, it felt so weird to even think Mr. Wentz instead of Pete.

I had already turned in my poem at the beginning of class, titled The (After) Life Of The Party. I had written it just after Pete had left my place and everything that I was feeling before he left came crashing down on me all at once again. Last week I had submitted Just One Yesterday, and then on Friday, I had submitted The (Shipped) Gold Standard. I was a big fan of parenthesis (if you haven't noticed).

I pulled out my notebook and started writing some random lyrics that came to mind. That's how I wrote. I would just jot down random things that sounded nice and tried to play ideas off of each other.

I'm just such a happy mess.

I'm the invisible man, who can't stop staring at the mirror.

I was also a fan of irony.

"Alright, guys," Pete announced, seeming way too overly enthusiastic about something. Others must've had the same thought, as people were all sharing worried glances.

"So you all should submit your sixth poem today. That means that there are only four left. Your last poem will be due on April 12th. Hopefully, I'll have identified all of you by the end of that week."

Part of me hoped that he would never be able to figure out that my poems belonged to me. I actually really liked this assignment. He was right, it was a way to express myself. It was a way for me to not let my feelings bottle up inside of me until I exploded. It made things that much more personal, and I was scared of what he would say to me when he finally put two and two together and realized that the poems were mine. Yet at the same time, I wanted him to discover me. They were not just a way to get my feelings out, they were a cry for help. I wanted his help, I needed his help, I needed him. I was just too scared to directly come out and say it.

"I've been trying to come up with a culminating activity to wrap up this unit. After a lot of thinking, I've decided to host a poetry slam. Does anyone know what that is?"

Most people shrugged and looked at their friends. One girl raised her hand. "Yes, Sarah?"

"It's kind of like a contest where people read and recite their poems." She stated.

He nodded. "Exactly. After I'm done explaining things, I'll show part of a documentary called Louder Than A Bomb, which we can finish next class. Hopefully, it will allow some of you to be inspired to put a little more emotion into your writing and take this a bit more seriously." He seemed to look directly at some of the students who sat in the back of the class and didn't give a shit about anything.