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Middle School Memories

This week the writers reflect on their past middle school memories :) If you are interested in joining our writing teams, please dm us over Instagram at theoutlet.inspire or email

Tech Crew

By: Luce Cada

Since the eighth grade play was a requirement, I ended up picking a role that let me do as little as possible. 

    And that meant being on the tech crew. 

    Most of my friends were on the tech crew, and the rest were actually doing something in the play. Even though I had a fair shot of getting a role, I decided not to because, well, I’d rather hang out with my friends and do work than play a part. 

    My small group of friends and I crowded around our computers, playing games in one corner of the room while the others on tech crew messed around on the tables. And that’s how I thought play rehearsals would go until these few months were over. 

    Turns out, I’d be getting something new out of it, too. 

    I resorted to drawing on the whiteboards in the back of the classroom and some others joined me. As the others completed the full reading of the script, we’d turned the whiteboards into a mess of black marker that somehow looked like a masterpiece to us. And I don’t even talk to most of these people on a regular basis, yet here we are, making whiteboard art that’s not really whiteboard art. 

    I signed up for lights at first, and the other quiet people joined me. It wasn’t like we would be doing much, anyway, so it was a win for all of us. When we went over to the stage to check out how the lights worked, us lights kids walked together. 

    There were four others, one of them my close friend and the other three the guys who would play computer games when they finished their work. I didn’t hang out with them or anything, but I could get along with them just fine. And the people doing lights normally sat around and watched. 

    “She said that we can play with the lights,” Eli said, running to the back and messing with the switches. He looked like he actually wanted to do something important, while the rest of us were just here because we had to. 

    We leaned against the wall, jumping off the stairs while he practiced with the lights, and we troubleshooted when the lights weren’t working. 

“We have to open this door,” Eli said, pointing at the seemingly locked door. They took turns jiggling the doorknob, twisting it, picking it, pushing against the door with all their strength and kicking it but it didn’t work. Kaeden even tried running at it and ramming his body against the door, but no luck. 

    Five minutes later, I finally walked up, put a hand on the doorknob, leaned on it and turned. It opened like butter, and everyone stared at me, dumbfounded. 

    “How’d you do that?” one of the others asked, and I shrugged, turning the lights on and grinning. No karate chopping doors down. Just pure magic. 

6th grade Poem

By: Austina Xu

His fingers tremble

Against the trigger

His head is hung down low

Dismal, weak, and fragile

He’ll fall down with one single blow


But concealed underneath the ashes

Lies a hungry soul within

One that carries the weight of his pain

And that persists through the thick and the thin


A ray of hope streams down

To god he will comply

As he confronts his foes with a solemn gaze 

Time is ticking slowly

It’s either win or die


A descendent of the brave

He slowly lifts his head up higher

No, he will not fall down

Nor will he back away

For this man is a fighter

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