Among School Children

Even after all these years at Oxford, it seems I haven't learned proper management/studying skills. It's about to be 11, and I've yet to start on my homework. Maybe it's just myself who can't focus, who waits until the last minute, who gets easily distracted.

Last night, I spent about an hour and a half analyzing one poem for my AP Lit class. Usually, for these poems, I spent about 20 minutes tops, but this time was different. Something about this poem really struck me. I went through each stanza, trying to figure out what Yeats was trying to say, looked up Maud Gonne, Plato, Leda and the Swan just to know why he would use these items. But when it came down to discussing the poem in class, I spoke about the same amount as those who had spent 20 minutes on their analysis. Why? I didn't want to make it seem like I know more than Georgia did, who was presenting on that poem. Yes, I like attention. I love it when other people comment on something I did right because this seldom happens. I wanted Larson to appreciate how much I put into that one poem, but she did not collect them. So what did I do? I talked to her. She put my paper on her desk, said she'd take a look at it. Like I said, I like the attention.

I never thought I would admit it. I didn't really realize it until Kim pointed it out a few weeks ago. Everything I do, whether it be antics, jokes, stories is for the sake of recognition. Whether or not we will admit it or not, our group does have a chain of command in some way. It's my misfortune to be a part of a group that has so many more likable people than myself. People usually see Omar, or Jonathan as the group leaders and pay little attention to me. It's this that makes me crave recognition. I want people to know, to realize, that I'm there, that I'm not forgettable, not easily discarded , but there...