Last Monday, as Tropical Storm Isaac rampaged South Florida with heavy rivulets of rain and screaming gusts of wind, I was rummaging through my closet and cleaning out some things when I came across an old scrapbook of mine. In it were hundreds of pictures of me in my early childhood. Of the numerous photos crammed into the plastic protective sheets, one captured my eye immediately. It was my kindergarten year, and I was sitting at the Blue Table with my friends. We were all finger painting a turkey for Thanksgiving, tracing our tiny hands onto a sheet of paper and painting the feathers with bright, fall colors. I smiled, remembering that I went home that day with my uniform, arms, and face covered with splotches of bright red, orange, and yellow.

However, this memory wasn’t what had captured my attention to this photograph. As I looked further into the picture, I noticed that nowhere in sight were there messy paintbrushes or dirty cups of murky water. To paint like this, with nothing but your fingers and your imagination, left me wondering as to what happened to my creativity. I have searched deep inside myself, trying to find that childlike, whimsical spirit of spontaneity and unconstraint. But somehow, through all the years of work tied down to a desk and chair, I have almost lost that sense of freedom and creativity. Almost.

As I look back now, I appreciate, every day with increasing gratitude, my year in kindergarten. Never before have I felt so attached to a period of my life. During the next two years, as I am enrolled in HL IB Theatre, I hope to reignite that fire of pure creativity and imagination; to finally get away from being tied down to a desk and chair; to at last step out of my enclosed, comfortable cubicle.