Totes Awk (pt. 1)

This week found us reading Sarah Kay’s poem “On the Discomfort of Being in the Same Room as the Boy You Like” and looking at the times we were uncomfortable. In order to help them think of some, I had to list a few of my own, like when I accidentally called my teacher “mom” or when I fell down when I was dancing in front of the whole school.

Mrs. Asvos
7th Grade, 2nd Period

“Halloween in the Woods”
Christian F.

The darkness was like standing in the shadow of a giant
then you realize you’re with relatives that you don’t know
forced to talk awkwardly in the darkness.
They talk about horror.

I struggle to find comfort in Halloween in the woods
I think of marshmallows to push out the thought
of horror in the woods.

“Playing Truth or Dare with Older People (15-18)”

The only reason
I was there was because it
was my brother’s son’s birthday
and he asked me to dance
at his party. At first it was
normal, but knowing teens… something
was bound to happen any
second. It’s like a jump-scare in
a movie, you know it’s coming…
but you don’t know when. That’s
exactly when I left. When the jump
scare came.

“My Sister was Poopin”
Anya P.

I really had to brush my teeth.
My breath smelled like hot garbage on a
summer day. It was pretty much disgusting.
I kicked open the bathroom door because
I’m cool like that.
Guess what I saw?
My sister was pooping.
“Get out!” she screamed. “Get out now!”
“No!” I witfully retorted (it wasn’t actually
that witty to be frank).
“Can’t you see? I’m pooping here?” she said.
“Well, go poop in the back yard!” I screamed
My sister started to feel awkward and
ran away, but she forgot something.
Her pants.

Mrs. Asvos
7th Grade, 3rd Period

“Everyone is Judging”
Alexandra J.

Everyone is judging me
My grandmother.
The sales-lady.
The teenagers and their exhausted mothers.
I stand in the changing room at Carson’s.
Buried in orange chiffon and sparkles,
like a department store discard pile
of tulle. And there’s nothing to do
but stand there and listen to
my Grandma’s comments, not making
eye contact.

Angela G.

When you walk down the
sidewalk full of snow
you never know what
the snow has turned
Ice. Ice that’s all
I see as I step
and slide down.

Everyone stared at
me laying there
they didn’t even
help, that moment
I felt like dog poop
waiting for someone
to clean me up.

“Do I Look Dumb?”
Vince Vince Vince Vince Vince…

I put the mouthguard on
and feel the pressure.
I don’t feel dumb, or dumber, I
feel dumbest. I feel like
screaming, “I’m not dumb!”
but that won’t happen as
long as safety comes



“Writing poetry makes me feel like I can see myself, like I can see my reflection, but not in a mirror, in the world. I write and I know I can be reflected.”
-Oscar S.

“Writing poetry makes me feel free.”
-Buenda D.

“Writing poetry is like your best friend.”
-Jessica M.