Free Clauda Kishi, Middle School Dropout by Ann M. Martin Page A

part of a historic occasion.
Next, I really impressed Ms. Spacey by pre'dicting that adding one chemical to another would make the first one turn from red to blue. Then I impressed myself by writing up the lab results in my notebook.
In social studies, I felt on top of my reading for the first time in a long time. Not only that, but I was beginning to remember some of the things I'd learned the year before about the American Revolution. This time I wouldn't forget them as soon as I passed the test, either. I understood now that it was important to learn things for keeps, not just for tests.
And in English, Ms. Chiavetta told me in front of the whole class that I'd 'structured my paragraphs "beautifully" in the essay I'd written after my first day in her class. (True, she did mention to me afterward that my spelling and punctuation needed work, but hey, I can't change everything overnight.)' Best of all, believe it or not, was math class that morning. I knew we'd be taking a quiz,. and I'd studied carefully the night before. Mr. Peters smiled at me as he handed out the question sheets, and I smiled back. Suddenly, math wasn't something to be afraid of. What a great feeling.
I went over the quiz, answering each question in turn and leaving the questions I wasn't sure about for later (a technique Rosa had taught me). Then I went over it again, taking more time with the questions I was unsure of. Finally, I went over it one more time, checking my work to make sure I hadn't made any silly mistakes in addition or subtraction.
When I looked up at the clock, I was shocked to see that there was still plenty of time left in the period. That had to be the first time I'd finished a math test so quickly. I looked around the room and noticed that most of my classmates were still hard at work on their tests. That made me panic. Had I missed a whole bunch of questions? I turned the test over, but the other side was blank. Then I turned it right-side up. and checked over my answers again, just in case.
Finally, I sat back in my chair and closed my eyes. I'd earned a little daydreaming time, hadn't I? I thought about my art class. I was still glowing from last Thursday's session.
It had been an excellent class. Serena McKay had things to say about art that I'd never heard before. She talked about the "spirit" of creativity, and told us that, as artists, we had an obligation to ourselves and to the community. An obligation to provide beauty, and an obligation to provoke thought and emotion.
Being called an artist by Serena McKay made me feel incredible.
She also talked about what it means to show your work to the rest of the world. She told us about her first show - and how' nervous she was about it - and about other shows she'd had in famous galleries all over the country. She explained how she prepares for a show: everything from how to choose which pieces to exhibit to how to decide what to wear to the opening.
Later, as we worked on the pieces we were preparing to show, Serena stood by my easel. "You 'have quite an eye, Claudia," she said. "I love this line here, and the way it intersects with this one," she added. "And you use color in marvelous, subtle ways, which is unusual in an artist your age." I was thrilled. "Thank you," I said quietly. I looked around at the other students after she left. One of them, a 'woman about my mother's age who was at the easel next to mine, was looking at me. I could tell she'd heard what Serena McKay had said.
"She's right," she said. "Your work is excellent. I've been trying to reach your level for about fifteen years, and I haven't made it there yet." She made a face. Then she shrugged and smiled. "Still, I've had fun trying." I couldn't believe it. This woman had been working on her art for longer than I'd been living! And yet, according to her, she wasn't as good as I am.
Needless to say, art class had been a huge ego boost.
"Okay, class," said Mr. Peters, jarring me out of my daydream' and back into