I hate this class.
Four words written in a random notebook. Random because he hadn’t brought his Voices Strong notebook to class.
Four words that made my heart sing.
In fact, my heart was singing so loudly that I had to celebrate. Although I didn’t reveal to the rest of the class what his words said, I was moved enough to stop the class dead in its tracks to point out what A had done: He had written unapologetically. It is part of our daily mantra.
“That’s a good thing?” A glared at me from behind strands of hair he’d tipped his head to force over his eyes, incredulous.
“Of course! We start class pledging to write unapologetically every day. Writing from who you are, not who you think I want you to be is our primary goal for this semester. It is what this class is about.” I knew I was chirping. I was aware that my voice, my cheeriness, chafed A’s apathetic 8th grade attitude. But I simply couldn’t help myself.
I love this class. Even those four words written in a random notebook. Especially those four words written in a random notebook.
They are 22 Voices Strong.