creative writing class

i found my old high school creative writing class anthology the other day. it was in a box tucked up high in dads garage. its is water damaged and wrinkled, but you can still read every page. i have been going through it and smiling. remembering certain stories. certain poems. the discussions it sparked. the fights. and reading through some of them, i realize what great friends i have and how well we have stayed close since high school...
...and i read my own stuff too. i hadnt since i graduated. its so interesting to reread all of my work. a lot of it is very juvenile...but i have to say its not as bad as i remember. maybe its just for me...maybe to others its not good. but i know that mr. rice's creative writing class gave me sanity that senior year. it was an outlet for me and my pain. everything going on in our family we werent aloud to talk about...but i had that journal..i was supposed to fill the pages. he didnt care with what..and so i filled mine with anger. with accusations. with questions. with all the things i wanted to say aloud but never could. that is why i have always loved mr. rice so much. why he was my favorite teacher. he allowed me to feel safe to write in that journal..and never once did he talk to me in public about it. he would write me comments in there. telling me his thoughts. not on the subject..but the writing. he made me feel safe. he made me not feel guilty. he helped me write some good poems that were abstract enough that i was sure i could read them aloud without anyone catching on to what they were about.

he helped get me though that year. it was a hard year. but i look back and have so many fond memories of that year too. and so many of them are from that class.