A Window

There are times when I feel like my life is just one big dream. And then I wonder just whose dream it is and whether that person was enjoying it – there are some people who just enjoy watching the suffering of others.

Anyways – this is a blog, right? And the basic point for the existence of blogs is for you to tell people about your day, basically. Of course, there are those who write about deep stuff with philosophical or political connotations in their blogs. And since I am incapable of writing something of that caliber, I shall simply have to settle for writing something less than extraordinary. Something…ordinary.

And also because I have realized (with the help of Rear End Admiral David Williams) that I have not blogged recently. So today, I shall tell you about a window. I wrote this for my college admissions essay (about leadership)…so enjoy.

The window belonged to my sixth grade class. I attended a Catholic grammar school where all students were required to attend summer school, and unfortunately, the building lacked air-conditioning. It got extremely hot, but fortunately, I inhabited one of the coveted “window seats”. Not only the source of a refreshing breeze, the window also provided my joy during the boring summer school days. While the rest of the class recited vocabulary words, I was far away. Some days I would be outside playing jump rope with the kids who were out of school. Other days I would be standing outside the school, eating an ice-cream cone and laughing at the students who were stuck in classrooms.

That image appealed to me most as I sat in the classroom one day, letting the window work its magic on me. The teacher stood behind her podium, giving the class a talk about business management. Melancholy sighs, the rustle of paper fans in use, and an occasional snore filled the room. Still, the teacher talked on and on. Suddenly a burst of laughter and cheers from outside filled the room. Recess time! That one precious time when we got to breathe fresh air and leave the confines of our desks. The sight of the other children playing right outside my window, the teasing of the slight breeze, and the unbearable conditions of the class had a powerful effect on me.

When the teacher saw a couple of us staring out the window, she said, “Anyone who wants to leave can leave.” Those words sounded like music, although her tone implied that she really meant, “Stop staring out the window because you’re not leaving this class.” What happened next shocked everyone, including myself. Me, the nice, quiet, obedient girl got up and ran into the coatroom, shaking the entire time. I pressed myself against the wall, trying to get a grip on what I’d just done. Seconds later, two other girls joined me. The three of us began giggling nervously and whispering, “I can’t believe we did that.” Other students quickly joined us, and soon fifteen of us filled the coatroom. Realizing we had to leave, we filed out of the coatroom, clutching our jump ropes, walking through the class where the teacher glared at us. Once outside, I still felt nervous, but I’d never felt so good. I had actually led this rebellion! What a thrill! It was my first taste of leadership, of setting my own example. This experience instilled in me the meaning of being a leader; one that has been refined over the years, but still remains with me today. Whenever I am asked to define leadership, I think of my sixth grade window and how it felt to laugh at the students stuck in class.