Short Story inspired by The Swim Team by Miranda July

This is my short story inspired by the writing style of Miranda July (mainly her story The Swim Team).

I am telling you this story because I’ve got no other to tell. Whether this is really a story or not is up for debate, as nothing really happens. Nothing ever happens in Creative Writing. The class enters, takes their seats and begins talking, laughing, not really paying attention until you find your way to the front of the room and give us that, Listen-because-I-don’t-want-to-have-to-destroy-the-children stare. Of course, there’s still the few who keep on with their laughing, their whispers and gossip, as if they’re not sitting right there, plain as day, in the front of the classroom. You make jokes, yell at the rebellious few, and give that same intimidating stare, all the while knowing you’ve got better things to do. Grading, for example, or explaining to someone the stitch used to knit the sweater they just complimented. And then you give us an assignment, or read us a book, or maybe even put in a movie that is meant to get our brains working enough to write. Of course, my friends and I, if not the whole class, remember what you said on that first day.

I remember your exact words. I’d just come from the counselor’s office, about halfway into fourth period, with a pass and a message, explaining I’d just been switched from Architecture CAD to your class: Creative Writing. Many of my teachers questioned my decision to switch, but I assured them that I’d much rather take a class in something I enjoy doing, than something I’m not so sure I’m interested in. I want to develop my writing more, I explained. I want feedback from others who enjoy it as much as I do. Of course, that isn’t really what I got.

So I walked into your class that day, pass in hand, and told you that I had been added to your roster. You waved me over to your desk, explaining the rules: This is a laidback class, you said. If you absolutely hate my prompts, feel free to blow them off. All I ask is that you write. You’ll need to have something ready to workshop in two weeks.

But back to the point of this story. Everyday the prompts that were given were forgotten and I’d sit in the corner with a friend and talk. Occasionally, something said would spark a story idea, or maybe even the opening lyrics to our latest rap. But, the truth of the matter is, we never left class with something worth reading (unless of course anyone wants to read a Christmas rap. And who doesn’t want to read a Christmas rap?)

And then, last class, you brought us to the library, where we set up our blogs. Now you’ll actually be checking our work, so we’ll be pressured not only to write, but to put out stories that don’t make us feel like idiots when read by our Creative Writing teacher, not to mention our fellow classmates (and we all know how mean teenagers can be). So, I guess I'll be getting what I asked for in the first place: Willing readers, hopefully thoughtful feedback and an opportunity to read the work of others. For someone getting what they want, I'm awfully nervous.