i was in a seventh grade typing class and by typing class, i really mean a chance for a group of twelve year old kids to mess around with the computers. however, this was the mid-1990's and of course back then, the computers consisted of a twelve inch screen throwing off the harsh glare of green black.
even to this day: why green and black?
we would prop up the assignment of the day: all the main keys for the left hand. the right hand. the bottom row, BOTH HANDS.
do not even get me to the anxiety which arose when we moved onto numbers. and punctuation. pressing that shift button at the same time as another key? new found panic.
but once the assignment was done, we would proudly strut up to the board and write our numbers per minute next to our name.
76. highest in the class. the teacher was sure i was just slamming down on random keys but no. nearly one hundred percent accuracy. i modestly credited the swiftness of my fingers to my many years of piano playing.
inside, i knew the real reason. i just wanted to play brickles. remember that game? a tiny ball bouncing up and down, knocking out two-dimensional bricks. the tiny beep-beep-beep was so reassuring, a tiny bridge which formed between all the students
just do not drop the ball.
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